THE  UNIVERSITY 


OF  ILLINOIS 
LIBRARY 


From  the  collection  of 
Julius  Doerner,  Chicago 
Purchased,  1918, 

9Z0.04Z 

E>9lf 

V*2-COp.^ 


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Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 
in  2015 


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https://archive.org/details/livesoftwelvegoo02burg_0 


LIVES  OF  TWELVE  GOOD  MEN 

BUBGON 


VOL.  II. 


a 


0)C  (txjoaTHpec  ev  kogjuo) 


OXFORD  : HORACE  HART,  PRINTER  TO  THE  UNIVERSITY 


Xipes  of  tTwelve  6oob  /llben 


I.  MARTIN  JOSEPH  ROUTE 

II.  HUGH  JAMES  ROSE 

III.  CHARLES  MARRIOTT 

IV.  EDWARD  HAWKINS 

V.  SAMUEL  WILBERFORGE 

VI.  RICHARD  LYNCH  COTTON 

VII.  RICHARD  GRESWELL 

VIII.  HENRY  OCTAVIUS  CONE 

IX.  HENRY  LONGUEVILLE  M ANSEL 

X.  WILLIAM  JACOBSON 

XI.  CHARLES  PAGE  EDEN 

XII.  CHARLES  LONGUET  HIGGINS 


By  JOHN  WILLIAM  BUEGON,  B.D. 

DEAN  OF  CHICHESTER 
SOMETIME  FELLOW  OF  ORIEL  COLLEGE 
AND  VICAR  OF  S.  MARY-THE-VIRGIN’S,  OXFORD 


IN  TWO  VOLUMES^VOL.  II 


SCRIBNEK  & WELFORD 
743  & 745  Broadway 


1888 


CONTENTS  OF  VOL.  II. 


PAGE 

TABLi:  OF  CONTENTS v 

(v)  SAMUEL  WILBEBFORCE  [1805-1873]  . . . . i 

(Yi)  RICEABL  LYNCH  COTTON  [179i-1880'\.  ...  71 

(VII)  RICHARD  GRESWELL  [1800-1881]  ....  94 

{vni)  HENRY  OCTAVIUS  COXE  . . .123 

(IX)  HENRY  LONGUEVILLE  HANSEL  [1820-1871]  . . M9 

(X)  WILLIAM  JACOBSON  [1803-1884] 238 

(XI)  CHARLES  PAGE  EDEN  [1807-1885]  ....  305 

(XII)  CHARLES  LONGUET  HIGGINS  [1806-1885]  . . 343 

APPENDIX  {H). — Mr.  Reginald  Wilherforce  as  a Biographer  . 423 

GENERAL  INDEX 425 


storage 


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0.  5 


PEMOTE 


TABLE  OF  CONTENTS. 


(v.)  Samuel  Wilbeeeoece  : — The  Remodeller  of  the  Einscojpate. 
[1805-1873.] 

PAGK 

The  Life  of  Samuel  Wilberforce,  the  History  of  our  Church  from  1845 


to  1873 ^ 

His  birth  and  early  training 2 

His  career  and  rooms  at  Oriel — his  marriage  . . • • • .1 

Wilberforce  at  Checkendon  and  at  Brighstone. — The  Great  Duke  . 5 


He  is  favourably  received  at  Court  . . . . • 

Loss  of  his  wife,  the  perpetual  overclouding  of  his  days 
Rector  of  Alverstoke,— Dean  of  Westminster,— Bishop  of  Oxford 
Summary  of  the  results  of  his  Episcopate  .... 


Ferment  occasioned  by  Hampden’s  appointment 13 

Wilberforce  calamitously  drawn  into  the  snare  . . . .14 

his  ill-advised  letter  to  Hampden,  and  its  results  . - • 17 

His  claims  on  the  Church’s  gratitude  particularized  . . . .19 

Institutes  Lenten  Courses  of  Sermons 21 

His  method  of  conducting  described  . . . *23 

His  singularly  successful  method  at  Confirmations  . . . .25 

His  share  in  the  revival  of  Convocation 29 

A day  at  Cuddesdon  described.— The  dinner 29 

description  of  what  had  gone  before,  10  a.m.  to  6 p.m. . . -3° 

scene  at  the  writing-table,  6 p.m.  to  7.30  p.m 3^ 

the  drawing-room  after  dinner  . . • • • • *33 

Wilberforce’s  wonderful  power  of  work  : — his  Candidates  for  Orders  . 34 

His  letters  written  in  railway  carriages 3^ 

His  manifold  engagements . . . • • • • ♦ *3/ 

The  Bishop  at  Turvey  Abbey 39 

His  Sermons  and  exquisite  pulpit  oratory 

Remarks  on  the  subject 

His  appetite  for  hearing  Sermons 44 

Power  of  sympathy,  the  secret  of  his  marvellous  success  . . . 4(» 

His  snares,  drawbacks,  and  hindrances  . . • • • .48 

His  thorough  loyalty  to  the  Church  of  England 49 

Critical  moment  when  he  was  appointed  Bishop  of  Oxford  . . .50 


VI 


Table  of  Contents. 


PAGE 

‘ Ritualism’  the  outcome  of  the  later  ‘ Tractarianism’  . . .51 

Wilberforce  unsuccessful  in  handling  that  form  of  lawlessness  . 52 

his  valedictory  words  of  remonstrance  and  condemnation  . . 54 

habitual  auricular  ‘ Confession,' — exaggerated  view  of  ‘ Fasting 
Communion'  — ‘ Non- Communicating  attendance'  . . . 56 

‘ Fidgetty  anxiety  to  adopt  alien  practices,' — all  sternly  de- 
nounced ...........  58 

Devotional  side  of  Wilberforce’s  character 59 

His  manysidedness,  industry,  and  administrative  skill  . . .60 

The  joyousness  of  his  disposition. — His  versatility, — and  almost  boyish 

freshness 62 

Anecdotes  of  Wilberforce,  illustrative  of  his  playfulness  . . .64 

His  yearning  for  love  and  confidence .66 

Strength  of  his  domestic  affections  . . . . . . -67 

Wilberforce  amid  his  ‘ body  guard  ’ . . . . . . .68 

His  calamitous  death, — on  Saturday,  19th  July,  1873  . . .69 

Interment  beside  his  wife,  at  Lavington 70 

(vi.)  Eichakd  Lynch  Cotton: — The  Humble  Christian. 
[1794-1880.] 

His  Birth  and  Ancestry 71 

R.  L.  Cotton  at  the  Charter  House  and  at  Worcester  College  . *72 

His  incumbency  of  Dench  worth  73 

His  good  works  in  that  neighbourhood  ......  76 

His  writings 76 

Dr.  Cotton,  beyond  all  things  a man  of  Prayer  . . . . -78 

Personal  characteristics. — His  marnage  . . . . . .80 

Further  personal  notices . .81 

Recollections,  by  two  Fellows  of  his  College 83 

His  death, — character, — funeral 84 

Yerses  on  * Worcester  College' 88 

(vii.)  Richakd  Greswell  : — The  Faithful  Steward. 
[1800-1881.] 

His  Parentage, — Family, — Education  ......  94 

He  obtains  a Scholarship  at  Worcester  College : — is  elected  Fellow  . 95 

Richard  Greswell  as  Tutor  of  Worcester  College  . . . .96 

Creates  the  College  Gardens. — Marries 98 

Refounds  the  ‘ National  Society  ’ for  Promoting  the  Education  of  the 

Poor  in  the  Principles  of  the  Established  Church  . . .99 

Rev.  William  Palmer’s  Narrative 100 


Table  of  Contents.  vii 

PAGE 

Establishes  the  ‘ New  Museum  ’ in  Oxford ; — is  chairman  of  Mr. 

Gladstone’s  first  Committee  (1847)  . . . , .110 

Is  the  founder  of  Denton  Church  . . . . , , .112 

Also  of  the  ^Ashmolean  Cluh,^ — and  of  the  ‘ A shmolean  Society  ’ . 115 

Reclaims  ‘ Port  Meadow  ’ : — promotes  the  ‘ Central  African  Mission  ’ 1 1 7 

His  munificent  spirit . . . . . . . . . .117 

Character,  and  personal  characteristics  . . . . . ,118 

His  death , . .121 


(viii.)  Henry  Octavius  Cox^:— The  Large-hearted  Librarian. 


[1811-1881.] 

Birth  and' Parentage 123 

H.  0.  Coxe  at  Westminster  school : — at  Dover : — at  Worcester  College  1 24 
At  the  British  Museum  . . . . . . . . *125 

Marries,  and  is  Under-librarian  of  the  Bodleian  . . . .127 

His  Curacies  in  London 128 

at  Culham  : — atTubney: — at  Yarnton at  Wytham  . .129 

Is  appointed  Bodley’s  Librarian .129 

His  Works 130 

Visits  the  East  in  quest  of  Greek  MSS 132 

H.  0.  Coxe  in  the  Bodleian  Library . . . . . . -133 

Personal  Characteristics  : — Anecdotes 136 

Rev.  George  Hext’s  Reminiscences  . . . . . . .140 

Other  personal  Notices .142 

His  portrait : — illness : — death : — burial 1 4 5 


(ix.)  Henry  Longueville  Mansel  : — The  Christian 


Fhilosopher. 

[1820-1871.] 

His  distinguished  Ancestry 149 

General  Mansel : — Admiral  Mansel  . . . . . .150 

H.  L.  Mansel’s  Birth  and  Parentage  . . . . . • 153 

Happy  home  of  his  Childhood  . 154 

His  early  precocity  . . . . . . . . . .156 

He  is  sent  to  Merchant  Taylors’  School. — His  boyhood  . . • ir9 

Publishes  Poems: — loses  his  Father 163 

Studies  Hebrew: — becomes  probationary  Fellow  of  S.  John’s  . .164 

Paul  Parnell  (p.  166). — H.  L.  Mansel  at  College  . . . .167 

His  public  Examination : — he  obtains  a ‘ double-first  ’ Class  . . 1 7 1 

Becomes  a great  Teacher. — Recollections  by  the  Earl  of  Carnarvon  . 172 

by  the  Rev.  Professor  Earle : — by  the  Rev.  E.  T.  Turner  . .175 


viii  Table  of  Contents. 

PAGE 

H.  L.  ManseFs  early  writings. — His  election  to  the  ‘Hebdomadal 

Council’  . . . . . . . . . .177 

His  Marriage : — cheerfulness  and  brightness  of  his  home  . . .179 

‘ Reader  in  Moral  and  Metaphysical  Philosophy  ’ . . . .182 

‘ Bampton  Lecturer  ’ on  the  ‘ Limits  of  Religious  thought  ’ . .184 

Some  account  of  his  Philosophy 186 

Controversy  with  F.  D.  Maurice : — with  Professor  Goldwin  Smith  . 192 

S.  T.  Coleridge  (p.  196).— J.  S.  Mill 199 

Mansel’s  estimate  of  Bishop  Butler  .......  200 

H.  L.  Mansel  and  the  ‘Agnostics  ’ 201 

His  Writings. — He  visits  the  Continent  ......  207 

H.  L.  Mansel  as  a Wit  .........  209 

Specimens  of  his  witty  sayings 212 

Epigrams  and  table-talk 215 

Professor  Chandler  s Recollections  of  Mansel  . . . .219 

Charles  Neate  (p.  221). — Mansel’s  happy  home  ....  223 

Beauty  of  Mansel’s  Character 224 

Letter  to  Lord  Carnarvon  (J.  S.  Mill) 225 

Personal  Characteristics 226 

Becomes  ‘ Regius  Professor  of  Ecclesiastical  History  ’ . . .227 

Is  appointed  Dean  of  S.  Paul’s 229 

His  health  gives  way  under  continued  strain 230 

His  visits  to  Cosgrove  Hall 231 

H.  L.  Mansel  at  the  Magdalen  College  ‘ gaudy  ’ (1871)  . . . 233 

The  last  six  days  of  his  life  ........  234 

His  sudden  departure 235 

Parting  words  concerning  Henry  Longueville  Mansel  . . .236 

(x.)  William  Jacobson  : — The  Single-minded  Bishoit. 
[1803-1884.] 

His  Parentage,  and  the  story  of  his  early  life  .....  238 

Is  brought  up  by  his  step-Father  to  Nonconformity  . . . -239 

Is  sent  to  Homerton  College 240 

From  Glasgow  University,  proceeds  to  Oxford 241 

At  S.  Edmund  Hall,  is  befriended  by  C.  T.  Longley ....  242 

Friendship  with  the  Fursdons  of  Fursdon  . .....  243 

Obtains  a Scholarship  at  Lincoln,  and  studies  hard  ....  244 

Falls  ill. — Obtains  a ‘ Second  Class  ’ 245 

Is  Tutor  in  the  La  Touche  family 246 

Alexander  Knox’s  estimate  of  William  Jacobson  . . . 248 

Fellowship  at  Exeter  College. — Rev.  J.  C.  Clutterbuck  . . . 249 

J acobson  obtains  the  ‘ Ellerton  Theological  Prize  ’ . . . .251 

Becomes  Archdeacon  Clerke’s  Curate. — Is  the  friend  of  Dr.  Edward 

Burton . .252 


Table  of  Contents. 


IX 


Visits  Florence  and  Eome 

Undertakes  the  Vice-Principalship  of  Magdalen  Hall 

Rev.  G.  S.  Ward’s  Recollections  of  the  period  .... 
Dr.  Longley: — Dr.  Arnold. — W.  J.  edits  Nowell’s  ‘ Catechismus’’  . 
W.  Jacobson,  after  his  Marriage,  at  Begbroke  .... 
The  ‘ Patres  AposioUci.' — Perpetual  Curate  of  Iffley 
W.  Jacobson  is  appointed  ‘ Regius  Professor  of  Divinity’ 

Removes  to  Christ  Church. — His  public  Lectures  .... 

his  Prayer  Book  Lectures. — Recollections  of  the  period 
Jacobson’s  children. — The  Rectory  of  Ewelme  . ...  . 

He  edits  Bishop  Sanderson’s  ‘ Works  ’ 

also  (what  is  called)  ‘ Bishop  Fell’s  Paraphrase  ’ . . . 

and  Routh’s  ^ Opuscula’ — His  Latin  version  of  the  P.  B.  . 

His  appointment  to  the  Bishopric  of  Chester  ..... 

Faithfulness  to  his  friends. — F.  D.  Maurice. — Sir  Colin  Campbell 
Personal  characteristics. — Illustrative  Anecdotes  . . . . 

His  administration  of  Chester  Diocese  ...... 

Specimen  of  his  private  Correspondence  ...... 

His  Episcopal  achievements. — His  ‘ Charges  ’ . 

Estimate  of  his  Character.  His  Opinions  ...... 

‘ The  Intermediate  stated — His  Ritual  practice  .... 

His  firmness. — Examination  of  Candidates  . . . . . 

Truth,  the  mainspring  of  his  actions 

His  ‘ Charges^ — '•  Sermons d — ‘ Fragmentary  Illustrations^  of  the  P.B. 
‘ Annotations  on  the  Acts  of  the  Apostles  ’..... 

Refuses  the  Bishopric  of  Winchester ....... 

William  Jacobson  as  a Bishop  ........ 

Munificence  of  his  disposition 

His  affectionate  nature 

His  humility,  simplicity  of  purpose,  and  sincerity  . . . . 

Canon  Gray’s  recollections  of  the  Bishop’s  last  years 
‘ Mo  ’ Griffith. — Scholarship. — Revision  of  the  N.  T. 

J acobson’s  last  illness. — He  resigns  his  See  . . . . . 

His  last  days  ; — his  death 

Loving  tributes  to  his  memory  by  his  friends  . . . . . 

His  portrait  by  Richmond 


253 

254 

255 
257 

259 

260 
260 

262 

263 
266 

268 

269 
269 

271 

272 

273 

277 

278 

279 
282 
284 

286 

287 

288 

289 

290 
290 

293 

294 

295 

296 

297 

300 

301 

302 

303 


(xi.)  Chakles  Page  Eden  : — The  Earnest  Parish  Priest. 


[1807-1885.] 

A friend’s  estimate  of  the  ensuing  ‘ Life  ’ 305 

C.  P.  Eden’s  Birth  and  Parentage : — his  Mother  ....  306 

Early  education. — He  is  admitted  at  Oriel  as  Bible-clerk  . . • 3°7 

Is  elected  to  a Fellowship  at  Oriel 308 


X 


Table  of  Contents. 


PACK 

Eden,  as  Tutor  and  Dean  of  the  College 309 

his  ministerial  zeal. — Builds  and  endows  Li ttleworth  church  . 31 1 
Bev.  Joseph  Moore. — Wadley. — A visit  to  Littleworth  . . 312 

Eden  and  the  College  cook *314 

His  wit  (p.  315) : — Eeligious  views  317 

C.  P.  Eden  succeeds  J.  H.  Newman  at  S.  Mary’s  . . . .318 

Eden  as  a preacher  and  as  a Divine  . . . . . . .319 

His  Sermons  (p.  321)  : — his  letters 322 

Letter  to  Dean  Church  concerning  Southey’s  epitaph  on  Bp.  Butler  . 323 

Eden’s  published  Sermons . . . . . . . . *325 

Eden  as  an  Editor, — Bps.  Andrewes  and  Jeremy  Taylor  . . *327 

He  secures  three  additional  Burial-places  for  Oxford  . . .328 

Is  presented  to  the  vicarage  of  Aberford,  and  marries  . . .329 

Eden,  exemplary  as  a parish  priest 331 

among  his  family, — at  the  Almshouse, — in  the  pulpit, — in  the 

parish 332 

with  his  Curates  (p.  334), — when  visiting 337 

His  health  gives  way 338 

His  departure 339 

Passage  from  one  of  Eden’s  MS.  Sermons 340 

(xii.)  Chaeles  Longuet  Higgins  : — The  Good  Layman. 
[1806-1885.] 

Birth  and  Parentage. — Weston  Underwood 343 

Notices  of  John,  father  of  C.  L.  Higgins 345 

William  Collins : — ‘ Bible  Scott  ’ ; — the  Throckmortons  . . 346 

William  Cowper,  the  poet. — John  Newton  ....  348 

Cowper  among  the  Throckmorton  family  .....  349 

‘Catharina’: — Lady  Hesketh : — Eelics  of  Cowper  . . • 351 

Cowper  at  Weston  Underwood,  an  idyll  . . . * . 354 

Turvey  Hall  and  the  Mordaunts  . . . . . . -3.55 

Mr.  John  Higgins  succeeds  his  uncle  Charles  at  Turvey  Abbey,  and 

marries 355 

The  family  at  Turvey  Abbey : — Henry  Hugh  Higgins  . . -357 

Eev.  Legh  Eichmond,  and  his  Curates *359 

Early  education  of  Charles  Longuet  Higgins 360 

He  is  entered  at  Trinity  College,  Cambridge  . . . . .361 

His  early  tastes  and  predilections  . . . . . . -361 

His  youthful  aspirations ,362 

Parochialia  in  the  first  quarter  of  the  xixth  century  . . . 363 

C.  L.  Higgins  at  Cambridge. — Eev.  C.  Simeon  .....  364 

C.  L.  H.’s  College  friends 365 

he  helps  to  found  the  ‘Jesus  Lane  Sunday  School  ’ . . -369 

Eeturns  to  Turvey  in  1829. — His  home  life  . . . . * 373 


Table  of  Contents. 


XI 


PAGE 

Natural  History  : — Church  Music: — Divinity 373 

Desires  to  enter  the  Ministry, — but  is  denied  . . . . *375 

Studies  Law, — Medicine  and  Surgery 376 

For  25  years  practises  Medicine  and  Surgery  among  the  destitute 

poor 377 

Death  of  his  Father  and  Mother. — His  own  bad  health  . . , 380 

Visits  the  Nile,  Sinai,  Petra,  Jerusalem  . . . . . -381 

makes  the  tour  of  Palestine,  and  returns  home  in  June  1858  . 382 

Remodels  his  garden. — A new  era  at  Purvey  Abbey ....  384 

Builds  a ‘ National  School,’ — ‘ School  House,’ — ‘ Museum  ’ . . 386 

‘ Reading  room,’ — ‘ Infant  School,’ — and  60  Cottages  . *387 

Purvey  Church  and  the  Mordaunts 388 

C.  L.  H.  restores  his  parish  Church  (1852-4) 389 

lengthens  the  nave,  and  erects  a new  Chancel  ....  390 

graves  of  the  Mordaunts  ........  390 

C.  L.  H.  marries  (1853)  : — establishes  a parish  Choir  . . . 392 

Personal  characteristics  .........  394 

Holds  sixteen  ‘ CAomZ  ’ [1862-77] 395 

Aspires  to  compile  a ‘Boole  of  Common  Praise''  ....  396 

Favourite  Hymns  with  the  Clergy, — the  results  of  inquiry  . -397 

Hymnology  and  the  Church 398 

Projected  ‘ Pheological  Library  ’ for  the  Archdeaconry  of  Bedford  . 401 

some  account  of  C.  L.  H.’s  Library  ......  402 

Cranmer’s  copy  of  K.  Henry  V Ill’s ’ ....  403 

* Local  Museums  ’ advocated  ........  404 

Village  Lectures  on  English  History  ......  406 

C.  L.  H.’s  Scientific  attainments  .......  407 

Advocates  Definite  Church  Peaching  in  Sunday  Schools  . . . 409 

Outlines  of  the  character  of  a pattern  Layman  . . . . .410 

Richard  Cecil  and  David  Livingstone  . . . . . .411 

Religious  prepossessions 412 

Personal  characteristics  . . . . . . . . .413 

Phe  individual  will  conformed  to  God’s  Will  .....  414 

Decay  of  bodily  strength  . . . . . . . . - 415 

Pestimony  of  Bp.  Harold  Browne 416 

Portrait  by  George  Richmond 417 

C.  L.  H.’s  last  days,  days  of  Prayer  . . . . . . .418 

Phe  closing  scene . . .420 

His  death  and  burial 421 


While  these  sheets  are  yet  in  the  printer’s  hands,  the 
following  eloquent  tribute,  (and  true  as  eloquent,)  in  a 
newly  published  Biography  meets  my  eye ; and  may 
well  occupy  the  present  vacant  page.  I have  often 
tried  to  say  the  same  kind  of  thing  of  Samuel  Wil- 
BERFORCE,  but  seem  never  to  have  said  it  half  as  well. 

And  here  we  must  take  occasion  to  note  the  very  dee})  debt 
of  gratitude  which  Dr.  Wordsworth,  in  common  with  many 
others,  owed  to  the  influence  and  example  of  the  Bisho'p  of 
Oxford  at  that  time.  No  one  who  recalls  those  days  will  ever 
forget  the  magical  effect  of  his  })resence, — like  the  coming  of 
spring  to  a winter  landscape, — in  the  little  nooks  and  corners 
of  that  agricultural  county:  his  tlirilling  Confirmation  ad- 

dresses : his  cordial  appreciation  of  what  was  done  by  others : 
the  brilliant  wit  of  his  conversation : the  inimitable  tones  of 
his  wonderfully -modulated  voice ; and  the  fascination  of  his 
look  and  manner. 

“ How  much  of  the  poetry,  life,  and  enthusiasm  of  Church 
work  is  due  to  Bishop  Wilberforce  ! how  much  also  of  its  organ- 
ization and  practical  development ! And  it  was  a ha])py  thing 
for  the  future  Bishop  of  an  agricultural  diocese,  like  Lincoln, 
that  his  work  at  Stanford-in-the-Vale  [1850-1868]  brought  him 
not  only  into  contact  with  a poor  and  neglected  country  popu- 
lation, but  with  that  kindling  and  stimulating  spirit,  so  far  in 
advance  of  his  age  in  his  conception  of  the  duties  of  an  English 
Bishop,  and  so  marvellously  endowed  with  the  power  of  carry- 
ing those  conceptions  out  in  active  life.” — Life  of  “ Cheistophee 
WOEDSWOETH,  BiSHOP  OE  LiNCOLN,” pp.  I42-3. 


(V).  SAMUEL  WILBERFORCE: 


THE  KEMODELLER  OF  THE  EPISCOPATE. 

[A.D.  1805—1873.] 

OF  certain  ecclesiastics  in  every  age  it  may  be  de- 
clared with  truth  that,  to  write  their  lives  fully 
and  in  detail^  would  be  to  write  the  ecclesiastical  history 
of  the  age  in  which  they  lived.  Thus,  it  has  been 
remarked  already,  that  an  elaborate  biography  of  Hugh 
James  Rose  [1795-1838]  would  have  been  nothing  else 
but  the  history  of  the  beginning  of  that  great  revival  in 
the  English  Church,  which  the  Rt.  Hon.  Thomas  Gren- 
ville [1755-1846]  characterized  as  by  far  the  most 
remarkable  phenomenon  which  he  had  witnessed  through- 
out his  long  career.  With  equal  truth  may  it  be  declared, 
that  the  subsequent  history  of  the  same  great  movement 
would  be  most  intelligibly  written  by  one  who  should 
construct  a complete  biography  of  Samuel  Wilberforce. 
But  in  the  case  of  this  last — with  far  less  of  learning  and 
intellectual  power — there  conspired  certain  personal  gifts 
of  an  altogether  unique  order.  No  ecclesiastic  within 
living  memory — scarcely  any  Englishman — has  enjoyed  a 
larger  share  of  personal  celebrity  than  he.  It  would  be 
easy  to  recall  the  names  of  men  who  eclipsed  him  by 
their  achievements,  or  by  the  brilliancy  of  their  writings : 
but  it  remains  a fact  notwithstanding,  that  as  a public 

VOL.  II.  B 


2 Samuel  Wilberforce  : [1805 

man,  Samuel  Wilberforce,  by  the  general  suffrage  of 
English  society,  was  without  a peer.  During  the  last 
twenty  years  of  his  episcopate  it  was  observed  that  no 
name  more  readily  rose  to  the  surface  of  conversation 
than  his.  Every  one  at  a party  had  some  characteristic 
story  to  tell  concerning  him -had  been  brought,  in  one 
way  or  other,  into  personal  contact  with  him.  It  was 
impossible  to  resist  the  conviction  that  he  was  a man 
universally  admired,  as  well  as  universally  known. 
Every  one  present  had  at  least  heard  ‘the  Bishop  of 
Oxford  ’ preach,  and  had  formed  his  opinion  concerning 
the  preacher.  JVho  that  had  ever  really  come  within  the 
fascination  of  his  personal  influence  failed  to  speak  of 
him  with  a kind  of  admiration  which  bordered  on 
enthusiasm  ? 

Such  ample  biographies  have  already  appeared  both  of 
Samuel  Wilberforce^  and  of  his  illustrious  Father,  that  I 
am  spared  the  necessity  of  recording  in  this  place  most  of 
those  details  which  are  really  indispensable  to  a Memoir, 
however  brief  But  indeed  the  present  is  intended  to 
be  nothing  else  but  a pen-and-ink  sketch  of  the  man 
chiefly  as  he  came  before  myself, — my  own  personal  recol- 
lections of  him.  Concerning  his  interesting  antecedents 
therefore,  I shall  say  scarcely  anything  at  all.  His  birth 
(September  7th,  1805)  and  his  parentage  have  been  fully 
set  before  the  public ; and  the  peculiar  atmosphere  of 
religious  thought  in  which  his  youthful  character  was 
formed,  has  long  since  become  a matter  of  history.  But 
his  biographer  seems  not  to  have  been  aware  that,  in 
conformity  with  those  same  family  traditions,  one  of  the 

^ '■Life  of  the  Rt.  Rev.  Samuel  (i88i)  and  third  (1882)  volumes 
Wilberforce,  D.B.'  &c.  The  first  by  the  Bishop’s  son, — Mr.  Eeginald 
volume  (1880)  was  compiled  by  the  Garton  Wilberforce. — See  Appendix 
late  Canon  Ashwell  : the  second  (H). 


1823]  The  Remodeller  of  the  Episcopate.  3 

preceptors  to  whose  care  the  elder  Wilberforce  entrusted 
his  son  while  quite  a boy,  was  the  well-known  ‘Fry  of 
Emberton  ; ’ a man  who,  (marvellous  to  relate),  was 
looked  upon  as  a kind  of  Apostle  by  the  Clapham  sect, 
and  received  into  his  rectory  a limited  number  of  sons  of 
parents  of  ‘ evangelical  ’ views.  Among  these,  it  should 
be  premised,  was  a lad  of  Hebrew  extraction.  A charac- 
teristic incident  is  still  remembered  of  the  Samuel 
Wilberforce  of  those  early  days.  The  scene  of  the  boys’ 
studies  was  a spacious  apartment  at  the  top  of  the  house, 
where  they  were  careful  to  relieve  the  tedium  of  ac- 
quiring the  Latin  language  by  giving  free  vent  to 
their  animal  spirits,  and  occasionally  making  a tre- 
mendous noise.  On  one  occasion,  the  disturbance  over- 
head having  become  insufferable,  old  Fry  (after  repeated 
ineffectual  warnings  from  below)  rushed  upstairs,  cane 
in  hand,  kicked  open  the  study  door,  and  proceeded  to 
wreak  his  wrath  indiscriminately  on  the  first  offender 
he  should  meet.  ‘ Sam,’  quick  as  lightning,  caught  the 
youthful  Israelite  by  the  collar,  slewed  him  round  to 
receive,  a tergo^  the  blow  which  must  else  have  fallen  to 
his  own  share,  and  pleaded,  ^ First  the  Jew,  sir, — then  the 
Gentile.’ 

His  brief  but  honourable  career  at  Oriel  (1823-1827), 
— (and  I have  already  in  another  place  suggested  why 
the  elder  Wilberforce  sent  his  sons  to  this  College,^) — 
brought  him  into  contact,  as  a junior,  with  a set  of 
remarkable  men,  some  of  whom,  for  good  or  for  evil, 
were  destined  to  leave  an  indelible  impress  on  the 
Church  of  England  at  a turning-point  of  her  history. 
His  rooms  were  those  on  the  ground-fioor  in  the  south- 
western corner  of  the  first  quadrangle:  rooms  which 

^ See  above,  vol.  i.  p.  390-1. 

B 2 


4 


Samuel  Wilberforce  : 


[1828 

were  identified  by  himself  in  conversation  more  than  40 
years  afterwards  by  the  fact  that  the  coal-hole  was  (and 
is)  under  the  floor  of  the  sitting-room.  He  had  asked  a 
friend,  whose  house  he  made  his  headquarters  when 
Bishop  of  Winchester  (Canon  Bridges  of  Beddington, 
also  an  Oriel  man),  to  indicate  to  him,  if  he  could,  which 
rooms  were  occupied  by  his  son.  When  Bridges,  after 
conducting  him  in  thought  to  the  locality  above  indi- 
cated, at  last  reached  the  trap-door  over  the  coal-hole, — 
‘ Those  were  my  rooms  ! ’ cried  the  Bishop,  grasping  his 
friend’s  arm,  and  swaying  it  backward  and  forward,  as 
his  manner  was : — ‘ Those  were  my  rooms  ! ’ 

In  1828  he  became  united  to  Emily  Sargent.  It  was 
through  this  lady  that  the  Lavington  property  eventually 
came  into  the  Bishop’s  family,  by  reason  of  failure 
of  issue  in  her  two  brothers.  Shortly  before  his  death 
in  1873,  happening  to  be  on  a visit  in  the  neighbourhood 
of  Harden,  where  Mrs.  Sargent  had  once  resided,  the 
Bishop  announced  that  he  had  arranged  to  take  a ride 
through  the  Park  with  the  daughter  of  his  host  (Mr. 
Master  of  Barrow  Green)  next  morning  before  breakfast. 
(He  loved  beyond  all  things  an  outing  before  breakfast, 
if  it  were  but  a scamper  round  the  garden.)  ‘ We  were 
sitting  in  a corner  of  the  saloon  ’ (writes  the  friend  who 
furnishes  the  incident^),  ‘when  Wilberforce,  turning  to 
me,  said  in  a quiet  undertone, — “ I saw  her  there  for  the 
first  time.  She  was  thirteen,  and  I was  fifteen,  and  we 
never  changed  our  minds.”  ’ . . . He  was  grave  and  silent 
for  a few  moments:  then,  began  on  quite  a different 
topic.  But  there  was  a pathos  in  the  incidental  remark 
which  my  friend  can  never  forget. 

® The  Eev.  Carey  H.  Borrer,  Treasurer  of  Chichester  Cathedral,  and 
Eector  of  Hurstpierpoint. 


1837]  The  Remodeller  of  the  Episcopate.  5 

He  made  the  first  proof  of  his  ministry  at  Checkendon, 
a quiet  little  country  village  near  Henley-on-Thames,  to 
the  sole  charge  of  which  he  was  ordained  in  December 
1828.  Thence,  at  the  end  of  sixteen  months,  he  was 
transferred  by  Bishop  Sumner  of  Winchester,  his  faithful 
friend  and  patron,  to  Brighstone,  in  the  Isle  of  Wight. 
It  was  at  Brighstone  that  he  matured  those  powers,  and 
acquired  those  administrative  habits,  for  which  he  became 
afterwards  so  conspicuous;  easily  achieving  for  himself 
the  foremost  place  among  the  clergy  of  the  little  island. 
But  he  was  constantly  in  society,  and  much  absent  from 
his  parish ; being  found  now  at  Farnham,  now  at  Winches- 
ter, now  in  London,  now  at  Oxford.  It  appears  from 
his  ‘ Diary  ’ that  he  was  away  for  a full  third  of  the 
year  1838.  He  had  in  fact  already  acquired  an  extra- 
ordinary reputation  as  a preacher  and  public  speaker, 
and  his  powers  were  largely  in  request.  At  Winchester, 
in  1837,— 

“ A great  county  meeting  was  held  for  the  purpose  of 
setting  on  foot  a Diocesan  Church-Building  Society,  with 
the  Duke  of  Wellington  in  the  chair.  Lord  Palmerston 
was  among  the  speakers  ; and  in  the  course  of  his  speech 
took  a line  which  Mr.  S.  Wilberforce  considered  in- 
consistent with  true  Churchmanship.  The  consequence 
was  that  he  attacked  Lord  Palmerston’s  remarks  with  an 
ability  and  eloquence  which  quite  carried  away  the 
meeting,  but,  at  the  same  time,  with  a vehemence  which 
caused  some  of  those  present  to  remonstrate  with  the 
Duke  of  Wellington,  as  chairman,  for  having  allowed  so 
young  a clergyman  to  proceed  . unchecked.  The  Duke 
replied  that  it  had  occurred  to  him  to  interpose,  but  that 
on  looking  again  at  the  speaker  he  felt  sure  that,  had  he 
done  so,  he  would  only  have  diverted  upon  himself  the 
stream  of  his  indignant  eloquence,  and,  ‘ I assure  you,’ 
he  added,  ‘ that  I would  have  faced  a battery  sooner.’  ” ^ 


Life, — i.  pp.  107-8. 


6 Samuel  Wilberforce  : [1840 

Of  the  opportunities  of  access  to  London  society  which 
his  frequent  visits  to  Winchester  House  now  presented, 
Wilberforce  availed  himself  freely.  He  even  cultivated 
the  friendship  of  men  of  a religious  school  alien  alike  to 
that  to  which  he  was  drawn  by  force  of  early  habit  and 
the  strength  of  family  traditions,  and  to  that  within 
the  sphere  of  whose  influence  his  education  at  Oriel  had 
inevitably  brought  him.  The  names  of  Maurice,  Carlyle, 
Bunsen,  recur  constantly  in  his  diary  at  this  time.  But 
he  never  identified  himself  with  any  school  of  religious 
thought,  though  he  touched  them  all,  and  evinced  sym- 
pathies with  each  in  turn.  Towards  Maurice  and  his 
party  he  never,  in  fact,  had  more  than  an  intellectual 
leaning.  From  the  phraseology  and  many  of  the  con- 
ventionalities of  ‘ Evangelicalism,’  on  the  contrary,  he 
never,  to  the  last  hour  of  his  life,  was  able  to  shake 
himself  entirely  free.  But  his  relation  to  the  Oxford 
school  was  altogether  peculiar.  With  undiminished 
reverence  for  the  personal  holiness  of  certain  of  its 
leaders,  but  with  his  eyes  wide  open  to  their  faults,  he 
instinctively  assimilated  whatever  in  it  he  recognised  as 
Catholic  and  true:  while, — unlike  his  brothers,  Henry 
and  Robert, — whatever  in  it  had  a Rome  ward  tendency , he 
rejected  from  the  first  with  unqualified  abhorrence.  He 
was  greatly  (and  reasonably)  scandalized  by  the  refusal 
of  the  leaders  of  the  party  to  contribute  to  the  Martyrs’ 
Memorial, — which  in  consequence  became  a standing 
protest  against  the  un-Anglican  character  impressed 
upon  the  Oxford  movement  from  an  early  period.  There 
is,  indeed^  no  feature  of  the  published  ‘ Life  of  Wilber- 
force’ more  truly  instructive,  than  so  much  of  his  private 
correspondence  and  public  utterances  as  relate  to  the 
celebrated  movement  which  culminated  in  Mr.  Newman’s 
desertion,  and  the  discreditable  ‘ Ideal  ’ of  the  Rev.  W.  G. 


1841]  The  Remodeller  of  the  Episcopate.  7 

Ward.  Should  it  not  however  in  fairness  be  added  that, 
in  common  with  all  other  faithful  men  of  his  generation, 
Samuel  Wilberforce  was  probably  indebted,  to  a greater 
extent  than  he  was  himself  aware,  to  the  religious 
atmosphere  of  Oxford  during  the  memorable  years  of 
his  undergraduateship,  for  whatever  of  warmth  and 
earnestness  he  carried  with  him  from  College  ? 

To  the  same  period  of  his  life  belongs  his  joint  author- 
ship, with  his  brother  B^obert,  of  the  biography  of  the 
elder  Wilberforce.  This  was  succeeded  by  his  ‘ History  of 
the  Church  in  America^  and  many  lesser  efforts, — Reviews, 
Charges,  Sermons.  He  had  already  been  appointed  Arch- 
deacon of  Surrey  and  Canon  of  Winchester,  and  was  now 
(1840)  nominated  one  of  Prince  Albert’s  chaplains.  In 
1841  he  was  promoted  to  the  important  rectory  of  Alver- 
stoke.  He  preached  frequently  before  the  Queen,  and 
was  acceptable  at  Court.  All  this  brought  him  within  a 
charmed  circle : and  the  traits  of  character  which  he 
sometimes  jots  down  in  passing  are  of  exceeding  interest. 
After  two  short  notices  of  Lord  Melbourne,  and  a life-like 
sketch  of  Sir  Robert  Peel,  we  shall  hasten  forward  ; — 

Jan.  8th,  1842.— All  went  on  most  pleasantly  at 
the  Castle : my  reception  and  treatment  throughout 
exceedingly  kind.  The  Queen  and  the  Prince  were 
both  at  church,  as  also  was  Lord  Melbourne,  who  paid 
his  first  visit  at  the  same  time.  The  Queen’s  meeting 
with  him  was  very  interesting.  The  exceeding  pleasure 
which  lighted  up  her  countenance  was  quite  touching. 
His  behaviour  to  her  was  perfect.  The  fullest  attentive 
deference  of  the  subject,  with  a subdued  air  of  ‘your 
father  s friend,’  that  was  quite  fascinating.”  ^ 

Dec.  25  [1845.] — bed  again  all  day.  All  doing 
well.  Many  letters,  &c.  Copeland  again  full  of  anecdote. 


Life, — i.  p.  2 II. 


8 


Samuel  Wilberforce  : 


[1841 


‘I  had  been  attending  Lord  Melbourne  for  6 weeks, 
3 times  a day  when  Minister.  No  one  ever  more  mistaken. 
The  most  anxious  painstaking  man  in  the  world.  W orked 
all  day  in  his  bedroom  with  secretaries,  &c.,  that  he 
might  be  able  to  send  bores  away  with, — My  Lord  has 
not  yet  got  out  of  his  bedroom.’  ” ® . . . The  next  quota- 
tion is  dated  July  5th,  1 847  ; — 

“ I got  back  to  London  on  Wednesday  evening,  coming 
up  in  a state  carriage  with  Bunsen,  Sir  E.  and  Lady 
Peel,  and  Count  Waldemar.  Had  a very  curious  obser- 
vation of  Sir  R.  Peel.  He  was  reading  the  ‘ Quarterh/^ 
and  soon  settled  into  Croker’s  bitter  attack  upon  him, 
peeping  into  its  uncut  leaves  with  intense  interest,  and 
yet  not  liking  to  show  that  interest  by  cutting ; and  so, 
when  Madame  Bunsen,  who  saw  nothing  of  what  was 
going  on,  offered  a paper-cutter,  courteously  declining 
it  and  lapsing  into  an  article  on  Pantagruelism,  to  fall 
again  into  the  old  article  and  peep  again  into  the  uncut 
leaves  as  soon  as  all  was  quiet.” 

The  sun  of  his  wedded  happiness  set  in  this  same  year 
(March  loth,  1841),  and  the  event  closed  what  he  always 
spoke  of  as  the  most  blissful  period  of  his  life.  ‘ Agatliosl 
‘ The  Rockg  Islayid^  and  other  ‘ Sunday  Stories’  which  have 
since  made  his  name  popular  in  every  nursery,  belong 
to  that  period  ; having  been  in  the  first  instance  told 
to  his  children  as  they  sat  on  his  knee  by  the  Sunday- 
evening fireside.  We  look  in  vain  throughout  the  present 
biography  for  anything  which  more  conciliates  our  per- 
sonal regard  for  Wilberforce  than  the  many  faithful 
references  to  this  (evidently)  admirable  as  well  as  very 
delightful  woman,  which  are  scattered  up  and  down  his 
letters  and  diaries.  On  his  introduction  to  the  atmo- 
sphere of  the  Court,  his  prevailing  sentiment  was  that  he 
had  not  her  to  whom,  on  his  return  home,  he  might 


« Life—\.  p.  326. 


^ lUd., — p.  398. 


1844]  The  Remodeller  of  the  Episcopate.  9 


describe  the  fascination  of  the  scene.  ‘‘Yes,”  (he  wrote 
to  his  sister  in  1844)^ — 

“ I quite  know  all  those  Spring  feelings.  It  is  the 
hardest  time  of  all  the  year.  She  loved  it  so ! She 
opened  in  it  like  some  sweet  flower.  Always  was  I 
looking  forward  to  it.  Now,  I never  look  on  to  it.  It 
seems  so  indifferent  what  it  is ; all  the  short  halting 
places  in  life  are  swept  away.  ...  It  is  most  sad  going 
home.  If  I went  home  to  her,  it  was  beyond  all  words. 
If  I went  home  with  her,  I got  apart  to  see  her  meet 
her  children.  And  now, — but  I ought  not  to  sadden 
you.”^ 

He  got  back  to  Lavington  after  several  long  and 
exciting  weeks  in  London,  on  June  nth,  which  happened 
to  be  the  anniversary  of  his  wedding-day.  On  the  12th 
he  wrote  to  his  sister : — 

“ Oh,  what  a picture  it  was  of  life,  coming  here  as 
I came  yesterday,  instead  of  that  day  here  which  seemed 
to  give  me  life  in  possession.  I spent  much  time  alone 
yesterday  night,  after  all  were  gone  in,  in  that  church- 
yard, and  came  home  quite  quiet.  Life  here  is  so  unlike 
my  life  anywhere  else.  I was  up  alone  on  the  hill-side 
between  six  and  seven  this  morning,  and  anything  more 
lovely  you  cannot  conceive.  The  slanting  sun  was  throw- 
ing its  brightness  from  behind  me  on  the  glorious  prospect, 
far  up  into  Surrey,  Albury,  the  Hog’s-back,  Leith  Hill, 
&c.  &c.,  and  all  very  distant  country  looks  so  beautiful : 
a sort  of  delectable  mountain-feeling  hangs  about  it.  I 
suppose  it  is  the  secret  instinct  after  the  land  which  is 
very  far  away  which  then  stirs  within  one.”® 

At  the  end  of  fourteen  months : — 

“ I am  again  in  the  blessed  quietness  of  this  holy 
place.  It  always  seems  to  be  another  life  which  I have 
here.  Being  so  separated  from  all  my  usual  full  occu- 
pation, it  has,  even  without  its  associations,  a sort  of 
Paradise  feeling ; and  when  I was  yesterday  standing 


Ibid., — p.  236. 


Ibid., — p.  239. 


lo  Samuel  Wilberforce  : [1845 

over  that  grave,  with  my  dear  Herbert  clinging  fondly  to 
me,  it  seemed  as  if  I was  in  another  world.”  ^ 

And  all  this  did  not  wear  out  with  him : — 

“Always,  on  returning  to  Lavington,  the  first  thing 
was  to  visit  the  churchyard  and  to  lay  flowers  on  her 
grave;  and  after  his  last  visit  thither,  on  May  31,  1873, 
so  near  to  his  own  departure,  he  wrote  to  his  daughter- 
in-law,  Mrs.  R.  G.  Wilberforce,  describing  the  occasion  as 
‘ one  never  to  be  forgotten.  God’s  world  in  its  beauty 
animate  and  inanimate  around  me ; the  nightingales  sing- 
ing His  praises ; and  all  seeming  to  rejoice  before  Him. 
My  dead  seemed  so  near  to  me  in  my  solitude : each  one 
following  another  and  speaking  calm  and  hope  to  me, 
and  reunion  when  He  will.’ 

He  made  the  best  use  of  his  bereavement,  as  many 
a letter,  many  an  affecting  entry  in  his  diary  ^ shows : 
and  it  is  certain  that  the  blow  left  a life-long  impress  on 
his  character.  Scarcely  right  does  it  seem  that  the  man 
in  his  agony  should  be  so  completely  discovered  as  he  is 
here  to  the  vulgar  gaze.  And  yet,  what  would  the  ^ Life  ’ 
be  worth  which  should  suppress  such  details?  His 
prevailing  conviction  was  that  he  had  received  a call  to 
come  out  of  the  world — ‘a  call  to  a different  mode 
of  life,’  ‘ a more  severe,  separate,  self-mortifying  course.’ 
‘The  great  object’  (he  wrote)  ‘which  I desire  to  gain 
from  this  affliction  is  a maintained  communion  with 
God.’  And,  ‘ Oh,  if  all  this  should  pass  away,  and  leave 
me  no  nearer  to  God,  i.  e.  more  worldly !’ ...  If,  at  the  end 
of  the  first  year  of  his  episcopate  (November  30th,  1846), 
he  wrote  as  follows, — who  with  a human  heart  can  with- 
hold a pang  of  sympathy  at  the  concluding  words  ? 

‘ I have  taken  some  time  for  prayer  and  meditation  to- 
day, looking  through  my  former  life,  reading  my  former 
entries.  How  wonderfully  fresh  it  all  is  still ! How 


^ Life, — i.  p.  267. 


^ Ihid., — p.  180. 


3 /Jit?.,— pp.  180-91. 


1845]  The  Remodeller  of  the  Episcopate,  i i 

perpetually  is  She  before  me ! In  business,  in  society, 
when  I seem  full  of  other  things,  how  there  is  a constant 
\mder-base  ringing  secretly  in  my  ears.  Yet,  how  little 
have  I learned  of  all  this  sorrow  should  have  taught  me.”  ^ 

His  five  years^  incumbency  of  Alverstoke  was  eminently 
fruitful  in  results,  both  to  the  parish  and  to  himself.  He 
built  three  new  Churches  and  two  new  parochial  Schools, 
and  succeeded  in  thoroughly  stirring  up  the  inner  life  of 
a populous  and  most  important  district.  His  Sermons 
there  are  said  to  have  been  the  best  he  ever  produced ; 
and  it  may  well  be  true,  for  there  is  a reality  in  Sermons 
prepared  for  a congregation  which  a man  knows  and 
addresses  habitually,  which  must  needs  be  wanting  in 
discourses  prepared  (by  a Bishop,  for  example,)  for  pro- 
miscuous gatherings  of  people  between  whom  and  himself 
there  exists  no  personal  tie.  He  had,  moreover,  gone 
through  the  furnace  of  severe  affliction ; which  more  than 
anything  else  imparts  something  of  pathetic  earnestness 
and  fervour  to  what  is  delivered  from  the  pulpit.  But 
the  offer  of  the  Deanery  of  Westminster  in  the  beginning 
of  1845,  and  his  elevation  to  the  episcopate  at  the  close 
of  the  same  year,  brought  what  may  be  called  the  first 
period  of  his  life  to  a close.  At  the  age  of  forty, — having 
successively  filled  the  offices  of  Assistant  Curate,  of 
Incumbent,  of  Bural  Dean,  of  Canon,  of  Archdeacon, 
of  Royal  Chaplain,  and  finally  of  Dean, — he  succeeded 
Dr.  Bagot  in  the  Bishopric  of  Oxford  at  one  of  the  most 
trying  moments  in  the  History  of  the  English  Church. 
The  year  1845  was,  in  fact,  the  crisis  of  the  Tractarian 
movement.  Thus  was  he  suddenly  translated  to  a new 
sphere,  to  new  duties  and  greatly  enlarged  responsi- 
bilities ; and  to  these  he  forthwith  addressed  himself 
with  the  energy  which  was  habitual  to  him. 


* Ibid.j — p.  183. 


12  Samuel  W ilberforce  : [1846 

He  found  the  Diocese  in  a very  backward  state.  It 
had  consisted  of  the  single  county  of  Oxford  till  1836, 
when  Berks  was  withdrawn  from  the  diocese  of  Salisbury 
and  added  to  that  of  Oxford.  In  his  time  it  was  enlarged 
to  its  present  dimensions,  consisting  of  the  three  counties 
of  Oxford,  Berks,  and  Bucks.  During  the  five-and-twenty 
years  immediately  preceding  his  consecration  (1820  to 
1845),  only  22  new  Churches  had  been  built  in  those 
three  counties,  4 rebuilt,  8 restored  or  enlarged.  In  the 
four-and- twenty  years  of  his  episcopate,  the  corresponding 
totals  are: — 106  new  Churches;  Churches  rebuilt,  15; 
Churches  restored,  250.  He  found  the  livings  in  the  gift  of 
the  Bishop  small  in  number  and  in  value,  being  but  17  in 
all.  He  left  them  in  number  103,  comprising  most  of  the 
important  town  livings,  and  with  increased  endowments. 
But  there  was  a vast  deal  of  work  to  be  done  of  a less 
showy  kind.  Cuddesdon  Palace  (so  called)  was  very  ill 
adapted  for  an  episcopal  residence.  It  had  wondrous 
little  sleeping  accommodation, — was  without  a private 
Chapel, — had  an  alehouse  in  the  garden.  Wilberforce 
applied  himself  at  once  to  the  remedy  of  all  such  draw- 
backs. But  he  did  more.  He  made  his  existence  felt 
throughout  the  diocese : — corresponded  freely  with  his 
Clergy : — gathered  his  Rural-deans  and  diocesan  school- 
inspectors  round  him : — conferred  with  the  territorial 
Laity  of  his  diocese : — broke  through  the  old  method  of 
conducting  Ordinations : — put  the  rite  of  Confirmation 
on  an  entirely  new  footing : — caused  it  to  be  everywhere 
seen  and  felt  that  the  old  order  of  things  had  passed  away, 
and  that  the  Bishop  of  Oxford  was  inaugurating  a new 
era  in  the  history  of  the  English  episcopate. — For  two  years 
he  was  in  a high  degree  prosperous  and  popular.  He 
had  earned  a brilliant  reputation  in  the  House  of  Lords, 
and  had  greatly  distinguished  himself  on  many  public 


1847]  The  Remodeller  of  the  Episcopate.  13 

occasions.  But  with  the  months  of  November  and 
December  1847  this  halcyon  calm  came  to  an  end.  His 
sky  became  suddenly  overcast ; and  before  the  year  was 
out,  the  storm  had  burst  upon  him  in  all  its  fury. 

On  Monday,  November  15th,  1847,  the  country  was 
electrified  by  an  announcement  in  the  ‘ Times  ’ newspaper 
that  the  Prime  Minister,  Lord  John  Russell,  had  recom- 
mended Dr.  Hampden  to  Her  Majesty  for  the  Bishopric 
of  Hereford,  vacated  by  the  translation  of  Dr.  Musgrave 
to  the  Archbishopric  of  York.  The  excitement  was 
instantaneous  and  universal.  By  his  ‘ Bampton  Lectures  ’ 
(1832),  Hampden  had  given  grievous  offence  to  the 
University  of  Oxford,  which  his  ‘ Observations  on  Religious 
’ ( 1 834)  had  but  served  to  aggravate.  Notwith- 
standing this,  in  1836,  Lord  Melbourne,  then  Prime 
Minister,  had  appointed  him  Regius  Professor  of  Divinity. 
This  called  attention  to  his  previous  utterances,  and  men 
of  all  shades  of  opinion  in  the  University  at  once  com- 
bined against  him  in  defence  of  the  most  sacred  of  causes. 
He  was  publicly  censured  in  a crowded  Convocation  by 
a majority  of  474  to  94.  A large  proportion  of  the 
Bishops  also  signified  their  disapprobation  of  Lord 
Melbourne’s  appointment,  and  the  censure  of  the  Univer- 
sity received  new  emphasis  in  1842,  through  the  failure 
of  a determined  effort  then  made  to  set  it  aside.  Lord 
John’s  selection  of  such  an  individual  for  the  ofiice  of 
Chief  Pastor  in  1847  was  therefore  nothing  else  but  a 
deliberate  insult  offered  to  the  Church  and  to  the  Uni- 
versity,— not  to  say  to  the  conscientious  convictions  of 
the  whole  body  of  the  Clergy  and  of  the  religious  laity. 
The  consequence  was  that  the  country  was  thrown  into  a 
ferment.  Meetings  were  held ; petitions  poured  in  : the 
very  newspapers  denounced  the  appointment  as  improper. 


14  Samuel  Wilberforce  : [1847 

The  ‘ Times^  then  a steady  supporter  of  the  Government, 
in  a leading  article,  declared, — ‘We  cannot  imagine  on 
what  principle  or  motive  it  has  been  adventured.’  In 
the  end,  thirteen  of  the  Bishops  (including  Samuel 
Wilberforce)  signed  a Kemonstrance  to  Lord  John 
Bussell,  who  had  also  been  separately  addressed  even 
more  strongly  in  the  same  sense  by  Howley,  Archbishop 
of  Canterbury,  and  Longley,  Bishop  of  Ripon.  All  was 
well  done  so  far.  No  charges 'had  been  brought  against 
Hampden  by  the  remonstrating  Bishops,  no  opinion 
expressed  as  to  the  justice  of  the  imputations  under 
which  he  laboured,  for  that  would  have  been  to  prejudice 
what  might  afterwards  be  the  subject  of  judicial  enquiry. 
They  had  but  represented  that  the  fact  of  the  existence 
of  such  charges,  and  the  very  general  and  deep  feeling 
which  prevailed  on  the  subject,  constituted  reason  enough 
why  a Minister  responsible  for  the  exercise  of  the  most 
delicate  of  the  functions  of  the  Royal  Prerogative,  should 
pause  in  giving  effect  to  the  appointment  of  such  an  one 
as  Dr.  Hampden  to  the  see  of  Hereford. 

Undeterred  by  Lord  John’s  unfavourable  reply,  the 
Bishop  of  Oxford  at  once  urged  the  Minister,  in  a long 
private  letter,  to  give  Hampden  (as  he  had  before  given 
Prince  Lee,  Bishop  of  Manchester,)  the  opportunity  of 
clearing  himself  before  a competent  tribunal  from  the 
charges  against  him ; representing,  that  in  this  way  the 
Church  would  be  fully  satisfied.  But  his  well-meant 
endeavour  failed  utterly.  It  became  daily  more  appa- 
rent that  Wilberforce  must  of  necessity  be  forced  into 
the  front  rank  of  the  coming  conflict,  the  vicarage  of 
Ewelme  (which  Hampden  held  as  Regius  Professor  of 
Divinity)  being  in  the  Oxford  Diocese ; and  calamitous 
for  the  Church  and  for  him  in  the  highest  degree  it  was. 


1847]  The  Remodeller  of  the  Episcopate.  15 

that,  from  the  accident  of  his  position,  so  perilous  a 
responsibility  was  thrust  upon  him.  His  temperament 
made  him  a peculiarly  unfit  person  to  stand  in  the  breach 
at  such  a time.  Truly,  it  was  as  if  diabolical  ingenuity 
had  contrived  the  snare  into  which  the  versatility  of  his 
nature,  not  to  say  his  very  talents  and  virtues,  were 
pretty  sure  to  draw  him  headlong. 

In  the  meantime,  Theological  Articles  had  been  drawn 
up  in  Oxford,  and  application  was  made  to  Wilberforce 
for  ‘ Letters  of  Request,’  referring  the  case  to  the  Court 
of  Arches.  ‘ It  would  not,  in  my  judgment,’  (he  replied) 
‘ be  right  for  me  to  promote  any  suit  against  Dr.  Hamp- 
den ; but  if  such  a suit  were  begun  in  the  Consistory 
Court  of  this  diocese  I should  at  once  transmit  it.’  Ten 
days  after  (Dec.  15th)  appeared  Dr.  Hampden’s  ‘Letter 
to  Lord  John  Russell,’  containing  (to  Wilberforce’s  great 
disappointment)  no  request  for  a judicial  investigation, 
but  merely  complaining  of  Tractarian  persecution,  and 
reiterating  professions  of  his  own  orthodoxy.  Next  day 
Wilberforce  signed  the  ‘ Letters  of  Request,’  by  which  he 
gave  his  sanction  to  the  commencement  of  a suit  in  the 
Arches  Court,  in  which  definite  charges  would  be  alleged 
against  Dr.  Hampden,  and  full  opportunity  given  him  to 
purge  himself  of  all  suspicion  of  false  doctrine.  And 
had  the  Bishop  stirred  no  further,  all  might  even  yet  have 
been  well.  But  at  this  juncture  he  took  a false,  or 
rather  he  took  a fatal  step.  He  had  signed  the  ‘ Letters 
of  Request  ’ under  pressure  on  the  part  of  the  promoters 
of  the  suit.  No  sooner  had  he  done  so,  than  he  got 
them  to  consent  to  the  withdrawal  of  the  ‘ Letters,’  if  he 
could  induce  Hampden  to  give  satisfactory  assurances  as 
to  some  of  the  points  on  which  the  language  of  the 
‘ Bampjton  Lectures  ’ and  the  ‘ Observations  on  Religious 


1 6 Samuel  Wilberforce : [1847 

Dissent  ’ were  most  disquieting.  Accordingly,  in  an  evil 
hour  he  addressed  a letter  to  Dr.  Hampden,  formulating 
eleven  heads  of  inquiry,  and  inviting  the  other  ‘ to  avow 
his  unhesitating  acceptance  of  them,’  as  well  as  to  con- 
sent to  withdraw  the  two  publications  which  had  given 
so  much  and  such  general  offence. 

It  is  hard  to  understand  how  so  able  a man  could  fail 
to  perceive  that  by  writing  this  letter  he  had  completely 
shifted  his  ground,  and  thereby  had  lost  his  footing.  He 
had  constituted  himself  at  once  Dr.  Hampden’s  accuser 
and  judge.  That  his  intentions  were  the  purest  and  the 
kindest,  and  that  he  was  seeking  the  peace  of  the 
Church : — that  his  Articles  of  Inquiry  were  ably  drawn, 
and  that,  if  answered  satisfactorily,  they  would  probably 
have  done  much  to  disarm  further  opposition: — all  this, 
however  true,  is  beside  the  question.  He  entirely  mis- 
calculated his  own  powers  of  persuasion,  as  well  as 
misunderstood  the  animus  of  his  opponent.  He  forwarded 
a copy  of  his  letter  to  Lord  John,  who  sent  him  in  reply 
a saucy  comment  on  it.  From  Dr.  Hampden  himself, 
of  course^  he  obtained  no  satisfaction.  It  would  appear, 
therefore,  that  the  suit  must  proceed.  In  the  meantime 
the  Bishop  heard,  through  the  Provost  of  Oriel,  that  the 
‘ Observations  on  Religious  Dissent  ’ were  not  being  sold 
or  circulated  with  Dr.  Hampden’s  sanction,  but  against 
his  wish.  He  also  learned,  but  from  a different  source, 
that  by  suffering  the  ‘ Letters  of  Bequest  ’ to  go  forward, 
his  own  act  would  be  far  more  judicial,  and  less  simply 
ministerial,  than  he  had  supposed.  He  therefore  with- 
drew them,  but  made  an  elaborate  endeavour,  through 
the  Provost  of  Oriel,  to  re-open  negociations  with  Dr. 
Hampden.  The  latter  had  long  since  astutely  put 
himself  into  the  hands  of  the  lawyers,  and  would  no 


1847]  The  Remodeller  of  the  Episcopate.  17 

longer  give  even  the  slender  amount  of  satisfaction  for 
which  alone  the  Bishop  now  pleaded.  In  fact  he  would 
make  no  answer  at  all.  Finally  (Dec.  28th),  the  Bishop 
of  Oxford,  at  the  close  of  a long  letter  to  Dr.  Hampden, 
wherein  he  recapitulated  what  had  been  his  motives 
from  the  beginning,  and  the  ground  of  each  successive 
step  which  he  had  taken  in  the  business,  wrote  con- 
cerning the  ‘ Bampton  Lectures  ’ as  follows  : — 

‘‘  I have  now  carefully  studied  them  throughout,  with 
the  aid  of  those  explanations  of  their  meaning  which 
you  have  furnished  to  the  public  since  their  first  publi- 
cation, and  now  in  your  private  communications.  The 
result  of  this  examination,  I am  bound  plainly  to  declare, 
is  my  own  conviction  that  they  do  not  justly  warrant 
those  suspicions  of  unsoundness  to  which  they  have 
given  rise,  and  which,  so  long  as  I trusted  to  selected 
extracts,  I myself  shared.  For  these  suspicions  of  your 
meaning,  and  for  the  consequent  distrust  of  the  Uni- 
versity, I must  with  equal  frankness  say  that  I discern 
the  cause,  (whilst  your  works  remained  unexplained  and 
the  minds  of  men  unassured  by  your  full  profession  of 
the  faith),  &c.  . . . But,  allowing  for  the  blemishes  of 
what  was,  I believe,  a necessarily  hasty  composition,  and 
taking  into  account,  as  I now  can,  your  various  explana- 
tions and  assurances,  I find  in  the  ‘ Lectures  ’ little 
which  will  not  admit  of  a favourable  construction.”  ^ 

‘ The  Hampden  business’  in  this  way  certainly  reached 
a singularly  ‘ lame  and  impotent  conclusion.’  In  Canon 
Ashwell’s  published  ‘ Life^  uncommon  pains  have  been 
taken  to  set  the  entire  transaction  fairly  and  clearly 
before  the  reader  ; and  assuredly  the  materials  for  form- 
ing an  accurate  judgment  on  every  chief  actor  in  it  are 
not  wanting.  One  cannot  affect  surprise,  when  it  is  re- 
membered that  the  principal  letters  appeared  in  the 
newspapers  of  the  day,  that  calumny  and  misrepre- 
» Life—\.  pp.  486-7. 

0 


VOL.  II. 


1 8 Samuel  Wilberforce:  [1847 

sentation  were  successful  in  blackening  the  character  of 
the  Bishop  of  Oxford ; yet,  no  one  acquainted  with  the 
whole  business  will  pretend  to  fasten  a stain  on  his 
integrity,  in  consequence  of  any  act  or  saying  of  his  from 
first  to  last.  He  was  rash,  impetuous,  unguarded  ; over- 
trustful, over-sanguine,  over-generous  : — showed  himself 
vacillating  and  ‘ infirm  of  purpose  ’ ; unduly  self-reliant, 
and  displaying  a marvellous  absence  of  judicial  dis- 
cretion. All  this,  and  more,  may  be  said  of  Wilberforce 
in  respect  of  ‘the  Hampden  business.’  Thus,  it  may 
with  truth  be  declared  that  he  showed  himself  in- 
competent to  discern  and  to  deal  with  the  heretical 
teaching  of  such  an  one  as  Hampden.  ® But  at  least  his 
honesty  of  jpurpose  and  simplicity  of  intention  cannot  be 
overlooked : his  integrity  and  perfect  good  faith  cannot 
be  impeached.  The  one  person  who  comes  out  of  that 
strife  with  an  ugly  stain  upon  his  shield,  a blot  which 
will  never  be  obliterated,  was  the  Prime  Minister 
of  the  day, — Lord  John  Bussell.  In  singling  out  in- 
dustriously from  the  entire  body  of  the  Clergy  a man 
under  suspicion  of  heresy  and  labouring  under  the 
gravest  censure,  in  order  to  make  that  man  a Bishop, — 
he  was  guilty  of  a fiagitious  abuse  of  the  prerogative 
of  his  office ; and,  as  chief  adviser  of  the  Queen,  showed 
an  unpatriotic  disregard  for  the  welfare  of  her  Crown  in 
a very  delicate  and  important  particular  touching  the 
Boyal  Supremacy.  He  afforded  a short-lived  triumph 
to  the  enemies  of  Religion  and  of  the  Church,  no  doubt ; 
but  his  appointment  of  Dr.  Hampden  to  the  see  of 
Hereford  was  acceptable  to  none  besides.  For  twenty - 
one  years  an  important  diocese  was  paralysed  by  the 
heavy  incubus  of  his  choice  ; and  it  will  be  remembered 
against  him  in  history,  that  in  two  of  his  appointments 

® The  reader  is  invited  to  refer  back  to  vol.  i,  p.  230,  note  (5). 


1847]  The  Remodeller  of  the  Episcopate,  19 

to  important  sees  he  selected  men  who  were  plainly 
bound  in  the  first  instance  to  clear  themselves  from  the 
gravest  disquahfying  charges  before  a judicial  tribunal^ 
— With  the  year  1847,  the  first  volume  of  the  ‘Life  of 
Wilberforce  ’ comes  to  a close.  The  biographer  who 
undertakes  to  weave  the  story  of  the  ensuing  years,  is 
perplexed  by  no  more  such  episodes  in  a career  otherwise 
brilliant  and  successful  beyond  precedent.  And  now  I 
resume  what  I was  interrupted  in  saying  at  page  12. 

Should  it  ever  come  to  be  inquired  hereafter, — Wherein 
does  Wilberforce’s  claim  to  the  Church’s  gratitude  chiefly 
consist  ? — the  answer  ought  not  to  be  far  to  seek.  He 
imparted  a new  character  to  the  work  of  an  English 
Bishop : left  on  the  entire  Episcopate  the  abiding  impress 
of  his  own  earnest  spirit  and  extraordinary  genius.  The 
popular  notion  of  a Bishop’s  office  before  his  time  was 
connected  above  all  things  with  images  of  dignified  leisure 
and  serene  isolation.  On  the  contrary,  ever  since  Samuel 
Wilberforce  was  appointed  to  the  see  of  Oxford,  it  has 
been  identified  with  nothing  so  much  as  incessant 
labour,  ubiquitous  exertion,  the  utmost  publicity.  W ilber- 
force  set  before  himself  the  necessity  of  restoring  to  full 
efficiency  the  ancient  mechanism  of  the  diocese.  Thus, 
his  Eural  Deans  were  not  only  taught  to  hold  Chapters, 
and  to  submit  for  discussion  questions  of  the  day  to  the 
Clergy  of  their  respective  rural  deaneries, — reporting  the 
result  to  the  Bishop ; but  they  were  periodically  invited 
to  Cuddesdon  for  deliberation  with  their  Chief.  In  this 
way  were  first  set  on  foot  those  many  Diocesan  Associa- 
tions which,  under  his  personal  guidance,  were  in  the 

Which  furnished  occasion  for  And  chose — two  precious  Turks, 
the  epigram  ; — One  bishop  for  his  Faith  was  tried  ; 

‘Lord  John  had  bishops  to  provide,  The  other,  for  his  WorlcsJ 


20  Samuel  Wilberforce:  [i860 

end  brought  to  a state  of  the  highest  efficiency.  Count- 
less were  the  schemes  he  originated  for  stimulating  the 
religious  life  of  his  diocese  ; — as,  by  local  Conferences, — 
by  gatherings  of  the  Clergy  and  laity,  — by  public 
meetings  held  for  Church  purposes, — and  later  on  by 
‘Missions;’  which,  as  he  conducted  them,  were  without 
those  un-English  characteristics  which  it  has  since  been 
the  endeavour  of  a party  within  the  Church  to  fasten 
upon  them.  He  devoted  nine  or  ten  days  every  Lent  to 
some  country  town  in  his  diocese.  And  throughout  that 
period,  with  the  zealous  co-operation  of  the  local  Clergy, 
(for  all  surrounding  villages  were  comprehended  in  the 
scheme),  he  arranged  a series  of  Services  and  Sermons  for 
the  entire  district:  while,  at  head-quarters,  by  daily 
Addresses,  frequent  Communions,  and  a stirring  evening 
Sermon  assigned  to  some  conspicuous  preacher,  he 
endeavoured  effectually  to  break  the  crust  of  formalism, 
and  to  rouse  the  slumbering  spiritual  life  of  the  many 
thousands  whom  he  despaired  of  ever  reaching  in  any 
other  way.  He  certainly  gathered  round  himself  on  such 
occasions  a rare  amount  of  eloquence,  earnestness,  and 
ability;  and  although  it  might  be  difficult  afterwards  to 
gauge  the  exact  amount  of  good  achieved,  or  to  define 
precisely  its  character,  there  can  be  no  doubt  at  all  that 
the  effect  produced  was  considerable,  and  the  result  an 
almost  unmingled  gain.  For  the  inhabitants  of  the  chosen 
district  to  overlook  the  fact  that  a great  effort  was  being 
made  and  with  the  purest  of  intentions, — was  at  least 
impossible.  The  sight  of  a considerable  body  of  Clergy, 
with  their  Bishop  at  their  head,  engaged  in  a spiritual 
crusade,  could  not  but  favourably  impress  alike  the 
friends  and  the  foes  of  Religion ; while  it  is  hard  to 
believe  that  the  opening  and  the  concluding  Services  and 
Sermons,  to  say  nothing  of  the  daily  Addresses,  failed  to 


1865]  The  Remodeller  of  the  Episcopate,  21 

produce  an  abiding  impression  in  many  quarters. . . . The 
Clergy  who  took  part  in  those  efforts  will  not  easily 
forget  the  gatherings  which  concluded  each  day,  at  which 
the  Bishop  was  generally  present,  (7ie  ought  never  to  have 
leen  absent) ; and  at  which  the  conversation  was  often 
truly  helpful,  and  always  interesting  in  a high  degree. 
It  turned  of  course  invariably  on  the  business  in  hand, 
and  the  remarks  of  the  Chief  Pastor  were  conceived  in 
his  happiest  and  worthiest  manner, — serious,  original, 
practical,  and  steeped  in  that  fervent  piety  which  was 
habitual  with  him  when  he  spoke  most  naturally. 

Wilberforce,  too,  it  was  who  set  the  example  (at  S. 
Mary- the- Virgin’s,  in  Oxford,)  of  organizing  those  Lenten 
COURSES  OF  Sermons  by  the  most  eminent  preachers  of 
the  day,  which  have  since  grown  everywhere  into  an 
institution.  The  system,  I mean,  was  an  invention  of 
his  own : and  it  was  from  the  first  attended  with  extra- 
ordinary success.  It  was  speedily  extended  from  S. 
Mary’s  to  S.  Giles’  church.  A mere  enumeration  of  the 
preachers  for  1865-66  will  show  the  character  of  the 
teaching.  Those  preachers  were  the  men  we  now  speak 
of  as  Abp.  Thomson; — Bishops  Wilberforce,  Woodford, 
T.  L.  Claughton,  Moberly,  Wordsworth,  Magee,  Mac- 
karness,  Milman,  Moorhouse: — Deans  Alford,  Mansel, 
Goulburn,  Bickersteth,  Butler  : — Canons  Pusey,  Liddon, 
Shirlejq  F.  K.  Leighton,  Burrows,  Eden : — Archd.  Grant : 
— Bev.  B.  M.  Benson,  B.  Bandall,  T.  T.  Carter,  A.  B. 
Evans^  J.  Lawrell,  D.  Moore,  James  Skinner.  The 
example  thus  set  at  Oxford  was  followed  by  our 
Cathedrals,  and  then  was  taken  up  by  the  great  towns. 
The  result  of  course  has  been  that  the  same  concentration 
of  power  which  was  exhibited  in  the  first  instance  at 
S.  Mary’s,  is  no  longer  possible  \ for  the  simple  reason  that 


22  Samuel  Wilberforge:  [1865 

men  of  the  calibre  Wilberforce  succeeded  in  bringing 
together,  have  long  since  become  themselves  the  fixed 
centres  of  other  circles,  and  are  therefore  no  longer  avail- 
able. These  courses  of  Sermons  the  chief  Pastor  always 
introduced  in  person.  And  the  pattern  of  ungrudging 
self-sacrifice  which  he  thus  set  to  his  Clergy  enabled  him 
to  require  of  them  in  turn  greater  ministerial  activity 
within  their  respective  cures ; so  that  what  had  been 
a singularly  neglected  diocese  became  in  the  end  a pattern 
of  earnest  and  efficient  administration. 

“ ‘ I recollect,’  said  one  who  is  now  almost,  if  not  quite, 
the  senior  member  of  the  University — ‘I  recollect  when 
a Bishop  of  Oxford  never  drove  into  Oxford  without  four 
horses  and  two  powdered  footmen;  and  what  does  Sam 
do  ? He  gets  upon  a horse  and  rides  in  by  himself,  with- 
out so  much  as  a groom  behind  him ! I met  him  myself, 
to-day.’ 

Such  was  indeed  his  habit : and  many  an  interesting 
story  could  once  have  been  repeated  of  the  advantage 
which  his  love  of  riding  gave  him;  as,  in  galloping 
across  the  Berkshire  Downs  in  order  to  clear  up  some 
local  broil,  or  showing  himshlf  unexpectedly  in  some 
remote  part  of  his  diocese ; the  clue  to  his  sudden  appa- 
rition being  that  he  was  on  a visit  ten  miles  off,  and  had 
resolved  to  utilize  the  afternoon  in  this  particular  way. 
While  I write,  a laughable  incident  presents  itself: — 
Wilberforce  on  a certain  occasion  met  me  on  my  way  to 
college,  and  put  a sovereign  into  my  hands,  requesting 
me  to  pay  it  for  him  into  the  Old  Bank,  to  the  S.  P.  G. 
account.  I promised  to  do  so  as  soon  as  I had  finished  a 
letter.  But  at  a few  minutes  to  four,  in  comes  a gossip- 
ing friend.  ‘ I am  afraid  I must  ask  you  to  excuse  me. 
I want  to  go  to  the  Bank.’  ‘ What  for  ? ’ ‘ To  pay  in 

8 Life,^i.  p.  353. 


1865]  The  Remodeller  of  the  Episcopate.  23 

this  sovereign  ’ (showing  it)  ^ which  the  Bishop  of  Oxford 
made  me  promise  just  now  to  pay  in  for  him.’  ‘ That's 
my  sovereign  r shouted  the  other,  making  an  ineffectual 
attempt  to  recover  it ; and  he  related  how  the  Bishop 
had  met  him  riding  over  Shoto ver  Hill  and  taken  it  from 
him  by  force  an  hour  or  two  before.  It  was  obvious  to 
get  the  Bishop  to  explain,  which  he  did  with  infinite 

zest.  ‘ 0 you  shall  hear ! I overtook ,’  (naming  the 

uncle  of  a neighbouring  magnate),  ‘ out  of  whom,  as  you 
know,  I never  can  get  anything,  and  discovered  that  he 
was  riding  into  Oxford  with  a bag  of  gold  which  he 
wanted  to  deposit  at  the  Bank.  I caught  him  by  the 
collar,  and  insisted  on  his  giving  me  a pound.  He 
begged  very  hard,  but  I told  him  I would  not  let  him  off. 
So,  after  a deal  of  grumbling  and  protesting,  he  produced 
a sovereign,  in  order  to  get  released.’  Wilberforce’s 
amusement  on  being  told  the  sequel  of  the  story — the 
recognition  of  ^my  sovereign'  just  as  it  disappeared  from 
sight  for  ever — may  be  imagined. 

Pre-eminently  successful  was  the  method  which  he 
observed  in  respect  of  his  Ordinations.  The  days  at 
Cuddesdon  were  days  which  Candidates  for  the  Ministry 
found  it  impossible  ever  to  forget,  or  rather  which  they 
learned  to  look  back  upon  ever  after  with  gratitude  and 
secret  joy.  The  examination  was  felt  to  be  in  every 
sense  a reality.  The  Candidates, — (domiciled  under  the 
Bishop’s  roof,  or  in  the  college  opposite,  or  at  the 
vicarage), — singly  as  well  as  collectively  were  brought 
daily  within  the  sphere  of  the  Bishop’s  influence ; and  in 
the  private  chapel  of  the  palace,  besides  listening  every 
day  to  a short  address,  they  received  on  the  eve  of  their 
Ordination  a Charge  which  for  persuasiveness  and  power 
certainly  seemed  far  superior  to  anything  of  the  kind 


24  Samuel  Wilberforce:  [1865 

they  were  ever  invited  to  listen  to  in  after  years.  The 
questions  were  never  printed,  but  delivered  orally  by  the 
Bishop  to  the  assembled  candidates  ; the  answer  to  the 
last  being  treated  as  private,  namely, — ‘ What  have  you 
discovered  to  be  the  chief  drawback  and  hindrance  to 
your  Ministry  ? ’ (or  words  to  that  effect).  This  was 
addressed  to  the  candidates  for  Priesthood.  The  conse- 
quence might  be  divined.  At  the  private  interview  the 
Bishop  showed  himself  really  acquainted  with  the  man 
before  him  ; and  blending  the  language  of  affection  with 
the  dignity  of  his  office,  contrived  to  establish  a per- 
manent relation  between  himself  and  the  candidate 
which  might  easily  ripen  afterwards  into  friendship,  but 
could  not  possibly  be  forgotten  or  ignored.  He  wisely 
held  his  Ordinations  sometimes  in  the  larger  towns  of 
his  diocese,  whereby  the  reality  of  the  ordinance  was  set 
before  the  eyes  of  the  common  people,  who  were  made  to 
feel  that  the  gift  conveyed  must  needs  be  some  real 
thing.  To  every  candidate,  before  the  imposition  of  his 
hands,  he  presented  a copy  of  the  Holy  Scriptures,  with 
a short  inscription  on  the  fly-leaf.  How  highly  that 
trifling  gift  was  prized  by  the  recipient  there  is  no  need 
surely  to  declare.  Many  of  his  practices  which  have 
become  general  since,  were  unique  tlien\  and  this  is 
one  of  them.  Perhaps  the  following  outline  from  the 
Bishop’s  pen  of  what  had  been  the  practice  in  the 
Oxford  diocese  before  his  own  time,  will  best  show 
the  extent  of  the  Church’s  obligations  in  one  respect  to 
Samuel  Wilberforce : — 

‘ The  Ordination  has  hitherto  been  conducted  thus  : — 
The  Archdeacon  of  Oxford  (Archd.  Gierke)  managed 
all  about  it,  and  examined  the  candidates  in  his  rooms, 
as  a student  of  Christ  Church,  and  settled  who  was  and 
who  was  not  to  be  ordained.  The  Bishop  came  on  the 


1865]  The  Remodeller  of  the  Episcopate.  25 

Saturday  to  Oxford,  gave  a Charge  to  the  candidates  ; 
and,  next  day,  proceeded  to  ordain  in  the  Cathedral.’  ® 

But  above  all,  in  his  manner  of  performing  the  rite  of 
Confirmation,  was  Bishop  Wilberforce  felicitous.  The 
remark  must  be  repeated  that  men  are  now  grown  so 
used  to  his  method,  (for  it  has  been  freely  reproduced  in 
other  dioceses),  that  they  lose  sight  of  the  purely  per- 
functory method  of  administering  the  sacred  rite  which 
would  appear  to  have  prevailed  universally  in  the  first 
quarter  of  the  present  century;  when,  hurriedly  to  lay 
hands  on  row  after  row  of  children  kneeling  before  the 
communion-rails,  and,  at  each  relay  of  candidates,  to 
pronounce  the  words  of  blessing  once  for  all, — was  re- 
garded as  the  sum  of  the  Bishop’s  function.  Wilberforce 
used  to  commence  the  rite  with  a short,  earnest,  affec- 
tionate Address,  during  which  the  candidates  were 
requested  to  stand, — while  the  rest  of  the  congregation 
sat.  And  how  skilfully  would  he  then  adapt  what  he 
had  to  say  to  the  circumstances  of  the  locality  and  of 
the  people ! At  Eton,  before  the  assembled  school : — at 
S.  James’s,  Piccadilly,  where  most  of  the  candidates 
were  young  ladies : — in  a densely  populated  town 
parish : — or  again  in  a sparse  agricultural  district ; — 
it  was  marvellous  how  diverse  was  the  manner  as  well 
as  the  matter  of  his  Address.  It  was  impossible  even 
for  a casual  looker-on  not  to  be  impressed  with  the 
belief  that  a turning-point  in  the  life  of  each  one  before 
him  had  been  reached  ; and  that  the  Chief  Pastor’s  one 
object  was  to  bring  home  this  conviction  to  the  hearts 
of  all  his  hearers.  Accordingly,  well-chosen  words  of 
sympathy  and  of  counsel, — of  encouragement  and  of  ex- 
hortation,— were  set  off  with  images  derived  from  familiar 


Life,—l  pp.  322-3. 


26 


Samuel  Wilberforce: 


[1865 


sights.  Amid  the  Berkshire  Downs, — in  order  to  explain 
that  forgotten  is  not  forgiven  sin, — he  reminded  the  lads 
how  their  footprints  in  yesterday’s  snow  were  all  still 
there^  although  the  slight  snowfall  of  last  night  had 
effectually  hidden  them  from  view. — Noticing  on  another 
occasion,  near  the  entrance  of  a village,  a tree  in  full 
leaf  lying  across  the  road, — (it  had  been  slowly  under- 
mined by  a streamlet,  which,  having  by  degrees  washed 
away  the  earth,  had  at  last  disengaged  one  by  one  the 
stones  which  had  for  years  kept  it  upright,  and  a sudden 
storm  of  wind  last  night  had  done  the  rest), — he  availed 
himself  of  the  image  (with  which  all  present  were 
familiar)  to  illustrate  the  history  of  many  a calamitous 
fall. — There  is  no  telling  how  persuasively  such  parables 
were  put,  and  how  convincing  they  seemed  to  all,  as 
arguments. — A brief  period  of  silence  was  maintained 
in  the  Church  for  the  purpose  of  invoking  a blessing  on 
those  who  were  about  to  be  confirmed ; and  when  all 
was  ended,  a second  Address — a kind  of  parting  Charge — 
was  delivered  to  the  candidates.  ...  It  would  be  hard  to 
say  whether  it  was  the  solemn  pathos  of  the  rite,  or  the 
exquisite  tenderness  of  the  chief  functionary,  which  was 
chiefly  conspicuous  on  such  occasions.  But  lookers-on 
were  melted  to  tears  ; and  those  who  were  proof  against 
such  outward  signs  of  emotion  freely  owned  that  they 
had  never  before  seen  anything  of  the  sort  so  admirably 
done.  A passage  from  the  ‘Life  of  Wilberforce  ’ claims 
insertion  here  : — 

“No  description  can  convey  any  adequate  conception 
of  the  impressiveness  of  the  whole  rite  as  he  administered 
it.  Sympathy  with  the  young  was  a marked  feature  in 
his  character,  and  he  felt  intensely  the  possibilities  for 
good  which  were  before  the  young  people  presented  to 
him.  Then,  it  was  one  of  Bishop  Wilberforce’s  peculiar 
gifts  that  when  he  did  thus  realise  anything  very  deeply, 


1865]  The  Remodeller  of  the  Episcopate.  27 

his  whole  bearing,  voice  and  gesture,  eye  and  counte- 
nance, were,  if  such  an  expression  may  be  permitted, 
transfigured  by  the  thought  or  feeling  which  possessed 
him ; so  that  the  living  man  as  he  stood  before  you  was, 
almost  without  words,  the  expression  of  that  feeling. 
When,  in  addition  to  all  this,  his  power  of  language  is 
remembered,  the  energy  and  deep  feeling  which  was 
apparent  in  every  sentence  and  every  tone,  together 
‘with  his  charm  of  voice  and  special  fertility  and  variety 
of  phrase,  no  one  will  be  surprised  at  the  prodigious  im- 
pression which  his  Confirmations  alwa}^s  made  alike 
upon  the  young  and  upon  the  old.  The  Addresses  were 
not  prepared ; or  perhaps  it  would  be  more  correct  to 
say  they  were  not  written,  at  least  not  after  the  first 
few  years  of  his  Episcopate.  The  preparation  was  rather 
of  himself  than  of  that  which  he  was  about  to  utter,  and 
was  usually  that  which  preceded  many  of  his  most 
effective  Sermons, — namely,  a few  minutes  of  very  deep 
attention,  concentrated  upon  one  or  two  master  thoughts. 
Then,  with  these  thoughts  in  full  possession  of  his  mind, 
the  fitting  word-vesture  seemed  to  follow  as  matter  of 
course:  words  and  sentences  flowing  on  and  on,  and 
adapting  themselves  to  the  specialities  of  the  audience 
and  the  locality, — as  the  curves  of  a river  follow  the 
contour  of  the  country  through  which  it  flows.”  ^ 

Especially  interesting  is  it  after  the  eloquent  passage 
which  precedes,  to  hear  Wilberforce’s  own  account  of  the 
matter : — 

“ There  is  so  much  of  deep  interest  in  a Confirmation, 
that  it  takes  a great  deal  out  of  one.  The  present  in- 
terest is  intense.  The  single  opportunity  of  making,  if 
God  will,  a dint  in  a character : the  gathering  in,  if  they 
have  been  watched  over  and  prayed  for,  the  fruit  of 
past  weeks : the  raising  them  to  something  quite  new, 
if  they  have  been  neglected : then,  all  the  old  interest  of 
Brighstone  and  Alverstoke  wakes  up.  I remember  the 
deep  anxiety  with  which  I presented  one  and  another, 
the  fear,  the  doubt,  the  trembling  hope,  the  joy  with 

^ Life—i.  pp.  392-3. 


28 


Sam uel  Wilberforce  : 


[1865 

which  I saw  one  and  another  come  forward,  and  the 
after  fulfilment  or  disappointment.  And  then  our  Bishop’s 
visits  were  so  hailed  by  lier^  and  she  was  so  beautiful  as 
the  reserve  which  had  always  gathered  melted  under  his 
coming  and  his  kindness.”  ^ 

Before  passing  on,  one  cannot  help  recalling  certain 
characteristic  features  of  the  Bishop’s  method  on  such 
occasions,  which  used  forcibly  to  impress  the  incumbent 
of  the  place  where  he  was  going  to  confirm.  “Tell  me” — 
(he  would  whisper,  drawing  you  aside  into  a corner) 
— “what  you  wish  me  to  say  to  them.”  You  told  him 
who  and  what  they  all  were  ; explained  the  trouble  you 
had  had  to  persuade  some  of  them  to  come  at  all ; 
begged  him  to  speak  words  of  encouragement,  or  of 
warning,  to  certain  of  the  younger  ones  whom  you  pro- 
mised to  indicate  to  him, — words  of  praise  to  a few  of 
the  aged  sort.  And  0 how  entirely  as  well  as  how  eagerly 
he  caught  the  spirit  of  your  few  hasty  words,  and 
electrified  each  set  in  turn  as  he  singled  them  out  for 
notice!  . . . The  Oxford  Workhouse  on  one  occasion 
supplied  its  contingent  of  pauper  candidates, — old  men 
and  women.  The  Bishop,  on  spying  them  out,  (for  I 
had  requested  him  to  say  a few  words  specially  to 
enlarged  on  the  vices  of  the  denizens  of  a workhouse, 
with  such  mastery  of  the  subject, — showed  himself  so 
thoroughly  at  home  with  their  low  habits  and  degraded 
life, — that  one  of  the  party  was  heard  to  exclaim  to  his 
comrade  ; — “ I say ! . . . I’ll  tell  you  what ; that  man 
knows  a little  too  much  about  it ! ” (I  believe  the  speaker 
suspected  the  Bishop  of  being  a reformed  ‘ casual.’) — In 
a neglected  agricultural  district,  if  he  noticed  in  any  one 
of  the  candidates  unbecoming  levity  of  manner,  he 


^ LifCy — i.  p.  402. 


1865]  The  Remodeller  of  the  Episcopate.  29 

would  single  out  such  an  one,  and  make  an  example  of 
him  or  her  before  the  rest.  His  way  of  doing  this  was 
inimitable  : the  effect  was  astonishing.  It  made  the  rite 
a great  success,  even  if  the  issue  of  the  day  had  before 
seemed  trembling  in  the  balance. 

I have  been  enumerating  several  points  which  con- 
stitute Samuel  Wilberforce’s  special  claim  to  the  Church’s 
gratitude.  It  remains  to  point  out  that,  with  regard  to 
Convocation,  the  Church  is  indebted  to  him  more  than 
to  any  other  man  for  having  restored  it  to  life  and  useful- 
ness after  its  lethargic  slumber  of  more  than  a century. 
It  was  his  resolute  hand  that  opened  those  long-closed 
doors.  And  since  then,  it  was  his  tact,  his  sagacity,  his 
energy,  that  recovered  for  Convocation,  one  by  one,  its 
ancient  privileges.  Let  it  suffice  to  have  touched  thus 
briefly  on  a very  large  subject. 

Those  only  who  were  admitted  to  the  Bishop’s  confi- 
dence,— or,  at  least,  had  often  seen  him  in  private, — are 
qualified  to  speak  of  his  actual  character.  He  had  a 
facility  alike  in  assuming  and  in  throwing  off  the  bur- 
dens of  his  office  and  station,  which  might  easily  mislead. 
To  see  him  at  his  own  table,  for  instance,  surrounded  by 
twenty  or  thirty  guests,  and  still  more  to  hear  him, — 
a stranger  might  have  gone  away  and  remembered  him 
only  as  a brilliant  talker,  a delightful  companion  ; and 
straightway  jumped  to  the  conclusion  that  it  was  for  his 
‘ convivial  qualities  ’ that  the  Bishop  of  Oxford  was 
chiefly  conspicuous.  No  one  who  really  knew  him,  even 
a little,  could  make  so  complete  a mistake.  But  it  may 
be  readily  granted  that  the  Bishop  was  at  no  pains  to 
put  the  ‘ rank  and  file  ’ of  his  acquaintance  on  the  right 
scent.  He  would  partake  freely  of  the  good  things  before 


30  Samuel  Wilberforce:  [1865 

him.  And  then,  he  was  the  very  best  of  table-talkers.  His 
vivacity  increased  as  the  entertainment  proceeded.  He 
had  an  endless  flow  of  anecdote.  His  power  of  repartee 
was  marvellous.  When  he  was  sure  of  his  company,  he 
would  not  only  be  confldential  but  unguarded  to  a degree. 
It  may  be  questioned  if  any  who  knew  and  loved  him 
did  not  take  the  more  care  of  him  because  he  was  so  care- 
less of  himself.  But  to  return  to  the  dinner.  His  habit 
at  his  own  table, — (by  the  way,  he  always  sat  in  the 
middle  of  it), — was  to  gather  in  front  of  him,  and  at  his 
right  and  left,  the  choicest  spirits  present ; and  further  to 
station  one  of  his  best  lieutenants  at  either  extremity  of 
the  hospitable  board,  with  an  injunction  to  them  to 
“keep  the  company  at  that  end  entertained.”  (And 
O the  droll  way  in  which  he  would  contrive  to  listen  to 
a favourite  lieutenant’s  story,  though  he  seemed  fully 
occupied  with  his  neighbours  ; and  would  presently  pro- 
cure general  silence,  and  insist  that — ‘ Now  we  are  going 
to  have  that  story  over  again  !’)...  The  hilarity  of  those 
gatherings  was  sometimes  extraordinary,  and  the  almost 
boyish  spirits  with  which  the  Bishop  would  throw  himself 
into  the  topic  of  the  moment,  as  already  hinted,  was 
pretty  sure  to  mislead  a superflcial  observer. 

But  how  had  he  been  occupied  for  the  eight  or  ten 
hours  before  dinner  ? Let  us  try  to  recall.  . . . Prayers  in 
the  private  Chapel  of  the  palace  ended,  there  had  been 
breakfast, — a social  and  cheerful  meal:  although  the 
formidable  pile  of  letters  of  all  shapes  and  sizes  at  the 
Bishop’s  side  (sure  harbingers  of  a busy  and  anxious  day) 
kept  him  tolerably  occupied — sometimes  thoughtful — all 
breakfast  time.  At  10  he  retired  to  his  library,  request- 
ing his  Archdeacons,  Chaplains,  and  Clergy,  to  follow 
him  speedily:  so  that  long  before  ii  they  had  plunged 
in  medias  res^ — the  business  (whatever  it  was)  which  had 


1865]  The  Remodeller  of  the  Episcopate.  31 

brought  them  all  up  to  Cuddesdon.  At  the  end  of  two 
or  three  hours  of  application,  most  of  those  present  had 
slipped  away  for  luncheon,  and  again  returned  to  sit  in 
conclave.  Wilberforce  alone  could  never  be  persuaded 
to  stir.  I once  hrouglit  him  a biscuit  and  a glass  of 
sherry.  He  thanked  me  for  my  zeal,  laughing,  but  was 
inexorable.  He  ‘ never  did,’  and  was  ‘ better  without  it.’ 
The  long  summer  afternoon  wore  away,  and  the  room  at 
last  grew  oppressively  close.  At  5 o’clock,  nods  and 
winks  indicative  of  exhaustion  were  freely  interchanged  : 
but  no  one  moved, — the  chief  personage  having  as  yet 
shown  no  signs  of  fatigue.  At  length  the  clock  struck 
six:  and  “I  say  !”  (exclaimed  some  bold  spirit)  “ I have 
got  the  cramp,  and  must  go  for  a walk.”  The  standard 
of  rebellion  once  set  up,  the  room  began  to  clear.  “Well 
then,”  (the  Bishop  would  say),  “ we  had  better  break  off, 
for  I see  some  of  you  are  getting  tired.”  So  satisfactory 
a recognition  of  a fact  which  was  altogether  undeniable 
produced  a general  rising  of  the  faithful  band  which 
remained,  and  a pleasant  vision  floated  before  each  one’s 
eyes  of  a rush  through  the  sweet  evening  air  before  having 
to  dress  for  dinner.  Vain  dream!  “My  dear  Eandall, 
you  are  not  leaving  us, — are  youH’  The  good  old  man 
murmured  something  about  “not  minding  stopping.” 
This  act  of  self-sacrifice  was  so  gratefully  acknowledged 
that  it  was  quite  impossible  for  “ my  dear  Clerke,”  or 
“ my  dear  Bickersteth,”  or  “ my  dear  Pott,”  or  “ my  dear 
anything  else  ” to  decline, — as  the  Bishop  challenged  us 
severally  to  do  him  the  great  favour  to  stay  and  help 
him  with  his  post.  In  this  way  he  secured  the  services 
of  about  a dozen  white  negroes,  whom  he  overwhelmed 
with  thanks  and  blotting-paper, — placing  them  round 
the  long  table  which  was  covered  with  writing  im- 
plements, and  at  which  he  had  already  taken  his  seat. 


32  Samuel  Wilberforce  : [1865 

“Now  then,  are  you  ready?”  (throwing  a letter  across 
to  “my  dear  Woodford,”) — “Begin,  ‘My  dear  sir,’  and 
finish,  ‘ yours  truly.’  Say,  ‘ I shall  be  glad  to  confirm 
at  your  Church  on  the  day  and  at  the  hour  you  propose. 
I trust  your  wife  is  by  this  time  restored  to  health.’ 
Thank  you  ! ” — “ Will  you  ” (turning  to  the  man  on  his 
left  and  handing  him  a letter)  “explain  to  him  that 
I cannot  possibly  sanction  what  would  be  a grave 
iiTegularity,  but  that,  &c.  &c.  Begin,  ‘Dear  Mr.  So- 
and-so,’  and  end  ‘ very  faithfully  yours.’  Thank  you, 
my  dear  Pearson ! ” — Then,  turning  with  another  letter 
to  the  man  on  his  right, — “ Tell  him,  please,  that  I have 
an  engagement  for  the  17th  which  will  hinder  me  doing 
what  he  wishes.  But,  would  another  afternoon  after  the 
17th  and  before  the  30th  suit  him?  Thank  you,  dear 
Leighton ! Begin,  ‘ My  dear  ’ (calling  him  by  his  sur- 
name), and  end  it  ‘ yours  affectionately.’  ” — To  the  next 
scribe, — “Begin,  ‘My  dear  Mrs.’  (naming  her),  ‘Yes, 
we  all  grow  older.  Thank  you  much  for  your  photo- 
graph. I enclose  you  in  return  what  you  are  so  good 
as  to  ask  for.’  I will  finish  it  myself.” — To  the  next, — 
“ Begin,  ‘ Beverend  sir,  I have  read  with  surprise  yours 
of  the  1 3th,  and  can  only  refer  you  to  the  letter  I sent 
you  on  the  same  subject  a week  ago.’  ” — To  the  next, — 
‘Dear  Sir, — the  last  sherry  was  excellent.  I shall  be 
glad  if  you  will  send  me  a further  supply  of  precisely 
the  same  quality  at  the  same  price.’  ....  This  went  on 
till  every  pen  at  table  was  heard  scratching  ; the  Bishop 
dashing  off  the  more  important  notes  with  his  own  hand ; 
only  pausing  at  short  intervals  to  glance  over  the  work 
of  his  scribes,  to  sign  his  name,  and  to  furnish  the  letter- 
writer  with  another  job : every  envelope  as  soon  as 
finished  being  thrown  into  a basket.  In  this  way 
perhaps  forty,  fifty,  sixty  letters  were  achieved,  and  the 


1865]  The  Remodeller  of  the  Episcopate.  33 

clock  had  already  struck  seven.  All  yawned, — but  one. 
lie  turned  an  imploring  look  to  “my  dear  KandalL” 
The  letters  had  not  yet  been  registered  in  the  log-book. 
“ O yes,  I’ll  do  it.”  And  now,  the  contents  of  the  basket 
being  transferred  to  the  post-bag,  we  were  all  again 
thanked  and  invited  to  dress  for  dinner,  with  the  in- 
formation that  A B C D (gentry  of  the  neighbourhood), 
with  wives  and  daughters,  were  coming,  and  that  they 
had  been  invited  for  eight  o’clock.^  Wilberforce  had 
been  hard  at  work  for  nine  hours,  and  had  still  ‘ a little 
thing  which  he  nmst  do  before  he  could  go  to  dress.’ 
He  looked  thoroughly  fagged.  On  reappearing  in  the 
drawing-room,  however,  a more  entire  contrast  can 
hardly  be  imagined.  He  looked  at  least  ten  years 
younger.  Every  mark  of  thought  and  care  had  vanished 
from  his  brow.  It  was  as  if  he  had  combed  out  his  cares.  ^ 
Then  came  the  dinner, — already  referred  to  in  pages  29,  30. 

Dinner  ended,  after  a few  civilities  to  his  guests, 
when  he  had  sufficiently  set  things  going  in  the  drawing- 
room, he  was  to  be  seen  in  a corner,  on  a sofa  which 
exactly  held  two  persons.  He  beckoned  to  you, — his 
forefinger  being  first  extended  horizontally,  then  pointed 


^ I shall  not,  I trust,  incur  severe 
censure  if  I venture  to  subjoin  the 
beginning  of  a letter  from  Canon 
Hugh  Pearson,  (dated  “Sonning, 
Feb.  5 [1880],”)  in  which, — besides 
commenting  on  the  text, — he  in- 
forms me  of  the  loss  the  reader  has 
sustained  by  my  having  omitted  to 
press  him,  (I  did  asic  H.  P.),  for 
some  reminiscences  of  his  own  : — 
'‘My  dear  Dean, — Murray  sent  me 
the  ‘ Quarterly,’  and  I read  the 
Article  with  the  greatest  delight. 
It  is  admirable, — to  the  life  : — the 
scene  at  the  writing-table,  quite 

VOL.  II. 


capital.  I only  lament  that  I had 
not  tried  to  give  you  some  of  my 
reminiscences.  I often  thought  of 
it,  but  put  off  from  day  to  day  ; and 
I rather  thought  I should  have 
heard  from  you  when  the  Article 
was  to  appear.  I could  have  added 
very  little.  Perhaps  you  might 
have  liked  a description  of  one  of 
his  Sunday  visits  here,  when  he 
came  down  in  the  Summer,  just  for 
the  day.  He  was  always  at  his 
best  then.” 

* The  reader  may  care  to  turn 
back  to  vol.  i.  p.  370. 


D 


34  Samuel  Wilberforce  : [1844 

vertically  to  the  vacant  part  of  the  sofa.  Seated  by  his 
side,  you  were  drawn  closer,  and  heard, — All  sorts  of 
strange  reports  have  reached  me  of  the  scrape  which  E. 
has  got  into.  Pray  do  mse?ise  me.  You  must  know  all 
about  it.”  When  you  had  done  insensing,  he  would 
consult  you  as  to  what  course  it  would  be  best  for 
himself  to  pursue ; ending  with  a request  that  you  would 
send  F.  to  him.  F.  accordingly  occupied  the  seat  you 
had  just  vacated;  and  you  knew  very  well  that  the 
Bishop  was  arranging  with  him  about  a meeting  of 
Clergy  to  be  held  next  month  at  G.  F.  in  turn  was 
requested  to  pick  out  H.,  and  send  him  to  him.  ...  In 
this  way  not  a little  of  the  business  of  the  diocese  was 
helped  forward  a stage,  while  half  the  party  were 
chatting  about  nothing  in  one  drawing-room, — the  rest, 
listening  to  music  in  the  other. 

His  powers  of  work  were  truly  surprising,  and  he 
would  get  through  what  he  had  to  do  under  conditions 
which  with  most  men  would  have  been  fatal  to  serious 
effort.  An  amusing  instance  of  this  belongs  to  the  last 
year  of  his  archidiaconate  (1844),  when,  having  been 
commanded  to  preach  next  day  before  the  Queen, — (the 
order  did  not  reach  him  till  after  dinner), — he  was  under 
the  necessity  of  travelling,  in  November,  through  the 
Saturday  night  at  the  tail  of  a goods’  train,  crossing  the 
Solent  on  the  Sunday  morning,  in  order  to  be  in  time  to 
preach  at  Osborne,  and  of  writing  his  sermon  at  intervals 
on  the  way  : — 

“ In  after  years  Bishop  Wilberforce  was  fond  of  telling 
the  story  of  this  Saturday  night’s  journey,  and  of  the 
inconvenience  he  experienced  in  writing  his  sermon  for 
the  morrow  in  a carriage  attached  to  a train  of  trucks, 
which  was  continually  stopping,  and  which  had  no 


1849]  The  Remodelleb  of  the  Episcopate.  35 


buffers  to  break  the  shock  of  each  stoppage.  Far  ahead 
at  the  other  end  of  the  train  he  could  hear  the  hump 
of  the  first  truck,  and  then  of  the  next,  and  of  the  next, 
until,  as  it  neared  his  own  turn,  the  ink  had  to  be 
secured  from  upsetting,  and  himself  and  his  parapher- 
nalia prepared  for  the  constantly  recurring  jolt.”  ^ 

Yet  he  not  only  achieved  his  Sermon,  but  wrote  a long 
letter  to  his  adopted  sister  besides,  which  he  finished  on 
board  the  steamer.  The  most  singular  part  of  the 
matter,  however,  was  that  Wilberforce’s  appetite  for 
work  was  so  extraordinary.  Several  instances  of  this 
present  themselves,  one  of  which  may  stand  as  a sample 
for  the  rest. 

A fortnight  before  the  examination,  it  was  his  practice 
to  direct  candidates  for  Priests’  orders  instantly  to  post 
and  send  him  to  Cuddesdon  the  last  two  sermons  they 
had  preached.  The  morning  and  afternoon  homilies, 
delivered  in  an  obscure  Berkshire  village  on  a certain 
Sunday  in  December  1849,  were  accordingly  forwarded 
to  headquarters  by  the  present  writer,  not  without 
trepidation.  The  first  (on  ‘ The  Day  of  Judgment  ’) 
contained  a considerable  extract  from  Pearson  on  the 
Creed.  The  second  was  unusually  severe  on  the  sin  of 
stealing, — the  squiress,  who  was  also  the  Lady-Bountiful 
of  the  village,®  having  just  been  robbed  of  her  ducks, — 
a loss  which  sorely  exercised  her  woman’s  nature.  It 
was  not  the  creatures  she  cared  for;  but  “to  think  of 
anyone  having  the  heart  to  come  and  steal  from  me!'' 
Accordingly,  without  exactly  mentioning  the  ducks,  the 

® Life, — i.  p.  243.  the  poor  of  that  village.  She  was 

® Miss  Mary  Anne  Morland,  of  simply  unwearied  in  good  deeds. 
West  Ilsley, — one  of  the  best  of  Her  kindness  to  the  Curate  of  the 
women.  Her  trade  was  to  befriend  village,  he  can  never  forget. 


36  Samuel  Wilberforce:  [1849 

preacher  had  made  it  perfectly  plain  what  he  was 
alluding  to.  The  examination  over,  he  was  sent  for  into 
the  Bishop’s  library. — “ We  find  your  papers  the  best 
we  have  had  this  time.”  The  man  began  to  breathe 
freely.— “I  have  read  both  }^our  sermons.”  (0  good- 
gracious  ! — the  eludes  !)  “ They  are  all  very  well ; but 

I think  a prolonged  extract  from  Tearsoei  is  somewhat  out 
of  place, — has  a dry,  formal  sound, — in  a village  sermon. 
And  those  remarks  about  stealing,  in  the  other  sermon, — 
/ suppose  they  luere  occasioned  hy  something  which  had  re- 
cently hap>pened^  eh  1 ” It  was  but  too  plain  that  the 
Bishop  had  spelled  out  every  word. — He  showed  the 
same  powers  of  endurance  in  wading  through  the 
Answers  of  his  candidates,  many  of  which  he  would 
discuss  with  them  during  the  interview  which  took  place 
on  the  night  previous  to  Ordination. 

Every  one  who  ever  travelled  with  him  will  remember 
how  he  utilized  a railway  journey  to  write  his  letters. 
So  overwhelmed  was  he  with  correspondence,  that  his 
favourite  resource  on  such  occasions  was, — (it  being  well 
understood  that  the  guard  must  always  give  him  a 
carriage  to  himself), — to  get  out  his  writing  materials,  and 
to  scribble  on  a kind  of  swing-desk.  These  missives 
he  dated  from  ‘ The  Train,’  and  they  were  really  almost 
as  legible  as  his  letters  written  under  the  most  favour- 
able conditions.  In  this  way  he  would  frequently  dash 
off  two  or  three  dozen  short  letters  in  the  course  of 
a railway  journey  of  a couple  of  hours  ; for  he  wrote 
with  great  rapidity,  and  his  writing  was  unusually  large. 
This  practice  of  his  is  well  known.  But  all  are  not 
aware  that  in  crazy  vehicles,  and  even  when  travelling 
on  bad  roads,  he  would  still  pursue  his  correspondence. 
It  is  related, — 


1857]  The  Remodeller  of  the  Episcopate.  37 

“ A propos  of  his  practice  of  writing  letters  in  railway- 
carriages,  that,  having  dated  a letter  so  written,  ‘ Rail, 
near  Reading,’  the  receiver,  ignorant  alike  of  his  identity, 
and  of  his  habit,  directed  the  reply  as  follows: — 

‘ S.  Oxon,  Esq., 

Rail, 

Near  Reading.’ 

Nevertheless  the  letter  was  delivered  within  a post  or 
two  at  the  Bishop’s  London  address, — 61  Eaton  Place. 
The  envelope  was  preserved  for  many  years  as  an 
example  of  the  perception  of  the  officials  of  the  Post- 
Office.”  ^ 

This  feature  in  Wilberforce’s  character  may  not  be 
dismissed  so  briefly.  It  has  been  so  excellently  touched 
upon  by  Canon  Ashwell,  that  some  further  details  may 
reasonably  find  place  here  from  his  admirable  ^Intro- 
duction ’ to  the  ‘ Life  ’ ; — 

“Perhaps  no  man  ever  possessed  a more  remarkable 
power  of  working  at  all  times,  and  of  using  up  odds  and 
ends  of  time, — a faculty  which  of  itself  indicates  a more 
than  common  vital  force.  He  was  passionately  fond  of 
North  Wales,  and  frequently  spent  some  time  there 
in  the  autumn,  taking  the  opportunity  to  speak  and 
preach  for  the  Society  for  the  Propagation  of  the  Gospel. 
The  details  of  his  return  journey  from  one  of  these 
Welsh  visits  are  too  characteristic  to  be  omitted.  He 
had  preached  on  the  Sunday ; and  on  the  Monday 
morning,  leaving  his  hosts  at  Coed  Coch  near  Conway, 
he  travelled  via  Chester  and  Shrewsbury  to  Plas  Machyn- 
lleth, the  residence  of  Earl  Vane,  now  the  Marquis  of 
Londonderry.  He  arrived  at  4 p.m.  Saddle-horses  were 
awaiting  him,  and  with  the  friend  who  accompanied 
him,  he  scoured  the  country — hill  and  valley — until 
8 p.m.,  barely  allowing  himself  ten  minutes  to  dress  for 
dinner;  and  this,  after  a railway  journey  of  full  180  miles. 
The  next  day  he  was  driven  to  a spot  well  known  to 
Welsh  tourists,  Minfibrd,  at  the  base  of  Cader  Idris 

Introduction  to  ‘ Life, — i.  p-  31. 


38  Samuel  Wilberforce:  [1865 

which  he  ascended  and  descended  on  foot,  a serious 
climb  for  a man  already  nearly  sixty.  On  Wednesday 
morning  he  attended,  and  spoke  at,  a meeting  for  the 
Propagation  Society  at  Aberystwith : then  walked  some 
miles  to  a neighbouring  house  to  luncheon;  then  travelled 
ninety  miles  by  rail,  and  ten  more  by  road,  to  Llan- 
gedwyn,  the  residence  of  Sir  Watkin  Williams- Wynn, 
arriving  at  8.45  ; dinner  at  9,  and  bed  at  12.45. 

Thursday  morning,  after  a 6 o’clock  breakfast,  he  was 
off  before  7, — reached  Crewe  between  8 and  9, — and 
London,  at  T.30.  There  he  had  a multitude  of  appoint- 
ments occupying  the  time  until  4.30  ; after  which,  he  left 
town  for  Salisbury,  where  by  8 he  was  ready  to  join 
a large  party  at  the  Bishop’s ; and  then,  after  dinner,  he 
entertained  the  whole  company  in  the  drawing-room,  by 
a reading  of  ^ Enoch  Arden’  then  just  published.  The 
traffic  manager  had  given  him  a carriage  to  himself : so 
that,  during  the  journey  to  Salisbury,  he  had  both  written 
his  day’s  letters  and  dressed  for  dinner.”  ^ 

It  may  be  freely  conceded  that  Bishop  Wilberforce 
paid  the  inevitable  penalty  of  a life  of  such  continuous 
action, — namely,  that  there  remained  to  him  but  few 
opportunities  for  either  reading  or  writing.  In  order  to 
achieve  his  well-known  article  on  ‘ Essays  and  Reviews  ^ 
which  appeared  in  the  ‘ Quarterly’  he  was  obliged  (he 
told  me)  to  shut  himself  up  entirely  at  Cuddesdon  for 
a fortnight.  There  are  but  twelve  hours  in  the  day. 
Into  those  twelve  hours,  he  habitually  forced  the  work 
of  eighteen,  if  not  of  four-and-twenty : but  reading, 
which  is  to  bear  fruit,  will  not  submit  to  be  so  disposed 
of ; and  he  was  much  too  clear-sighted  a man  to  make 
the  attempt.  His  was,  to  an  extraordinary  extent,  a 
life  of  action.  Once,  on  hearing  of  a friend’s  promotion 
to  the  episcopate, — ‘Ah,’  (I  heard  him  exclaim),  ‘and 
now  he  will  degenerate  into  a mere  administrator.’  It 


* Introduction  to  ‘ Life  I — p.  24. 


1865]  The  Remodeller  of  the  Episcopate.  39 

must  in  fact  be  apparent  to  all,  that  the  nature  and 
amount  of  episcopal  work  renders  systematic  study 
next  to  impossible.  And  yet,  to  some  extent,  Wilber- 
force  did  read.  On  coming  down  one  morning  to  break- 
fast, at  Turvey  Abbey,  he  confessed  that  he  had  risen  at 
six,  and  had  carefully  mastered  twenty  pages  of  Pusey’s 
‘ Book  of  Daniel.’  He  was  reading  the  work  through  ; 
but  could  only  find  time  for  it  by  early  rising.  He  only 
read  such  books  as  he  deemed  indispensable ; getting  the 
substance  of  many  others  chiefly  by  conversation  with 
those  who  had  read  them  carefully,  and  on  whose  judg- 
ment he  knew  that  he  might  rely. 

My  brother-in-law  (C.  L.  H.)^  recalls  an  occasion  when, 

“After  a very  hard  day’s  work, — during  which  he  had 
confirmed  candidates,  preached  at  the  re-opening  of 
a Church,  spoken  two  or  three  times,  and  done  much 
beside  in  a manner  which  perhaps  no  person  but  him- 
self could  have  accomplished, — the  Bishop  returned  in 
the  evening  to  Turvey,  where  he  was  staying.  A small 
party  had  been  invited  to  meet  him  at  dinner,  and  there 
was  some  bright  and  pleasant  conversation.  When  the 
time  came  for  retiring  into  the  drawing-room,  the  Bishop, 
who  looked  a little  fatigued,  said  to  me, — ‘ There  is 
nothing  which  makes  me  more  absolutely  disgusted  with 
myself  than  feeling  tired  when  evening  comes.  What 
business  have  I to  be  tired  ? nothing  gives  me  any  com- 
fort at  all  but  that  verse  in  the  Psalms, — “Man  goeth 
forth  to  his  work  and  to  his  labour  until  the  evening  ; ” 
and  so,  I suppose,  that  when  evening  comes,  he  may  rest.’ 
After  this,  he  brightened  up  and  talked  incessantly  for 
two  hours.  Prayers  had  been  said,  and  a move  at  length 
having  been  proposed,  (it  was  long  after  midnight,)  the 
Bishop  requested  that  he  might  go  into  the  library  to 
get  a volume  of  a Father  whom  he  mentioned,  as  he 
wished  to  look  out  a passage  in  his  writings  before 


See  the  last  Memoir  in  the  present  volume. 


40  Samuel  Wilberforce  : [1831 

going  to  bed.  Pulling  out  a large  folio,  he  marched 
up-stairs  with  the  volume  under  his  arm.” 

The  wonder  with  me  was,  how  he  ever  found  it  possible 
to  write — what  he  was  so  frequently  called  upon  to  preach 
— namely,  a Sermon.  Never,  certainly,  could  he  have 
written  those  later  sermons  at  all,  had  he  not  acquired 
extraordinary  facility  by  constant  exercise  during  the 
earlier  years  of  his  ministry, — as  many  an  entry  in  his 
diary  proves.  “For  months  together,”  says  Canon  Ash- 
well,  “ the  course  of  preparation  of  each  sermon  is  speci- 
fied, together  with  memoranda  as  to  its  efficacy  when 
delivered.”  ^ . . . I wish  that  young  preachers  would  lay 
such  a discovery  to  heart ! Even  to  the  last  he  stuck  to 
the  practice  of  at  least  endeavouring  to  commit  to  paper 
— at  the  Athenseum  probably,  or  in  the  train, — what  he 
proposed  to  deliver  from  the  pulpit.  The  document,  it 
must  be  confessed,  bore  abundant  traces  of  the  disadvan- 
tages under  which  it  had  been  produced,  and  was  never 
fit  for  printing  until  it  had  been  carefully  revised, — in 
fact,  it  almost  required  to  be  re-written. 

Such  a passing  reference  to  Wilberforce’s  preaching 
awakens  a multitude  of  slumbering  recollections.  There 
is  no  describing  how  exquisite  was  his  oratory.  Such  a 
delightful  voice  and  persuasive  mode  of  addi’ess  ; — such  a 
happy  admixture  of  argumentative  power  with  rhetorical 
skill ; — such  wealth  of  striking  imagery  and  unrivalled 
beauty  of  diction ; — and  all  this,  recommended  by  the 
most  consummate  grace  and  a truly  mellifiuous  utter- 
ance ; — made  him  facile  princeps^  beyond  a doubt  the 
greatest  living  master  of  his  art.  His  pulpit  oratory 
was  only  inferior  to  his  efforts  on  the  platform,  because 


1 Life—\.  55. 


1842]  The  Remodeller  of  the  Episcopate.  41 

the  pulpit  does  not  admit  of  the  same  display  of  varied 
power  which  is  freely  elicited  by  the  exigencies  of  de- 
bate. But  his  Sermons  were  wonderful  performances 
truly;  and  all  things  considered,  in  the  pulpit  also  he 
was  certainly  without  a peer.  The  impression  which 
his  preaching  made  at  Court  (1842)  is  eloquently  re- 
flected in  some  letters  of  Lady  Lyttelton  to  her  daughter, 
from  which  a few  extracts  shall  be  subjoined.  It  is 
a satisfaction  to  find  one’s  own  impression  of  his  match- 
less elocution  confirmed  by  so  competent  a judge  : — 

“ The  real  delight  of  this  visit  is  the  presence  of  Arch- 
deacon Wilberforce.  I never  saw  a more  agreeable  man; 
and  if  such  a Hindoo  were  to  be  found,  I think  he  would 
go  far  to  convert  me  and  lead  me  to  J uggernaut : so  it  is 
hard  if  all  who  know  him  are  not  altogether  Christians 
sooner  or  later.  And  I need  not  add,  for  it  is  a necessary 
part  of  his  character,  that  he  never  parades  or  brings 
forward  his  religious  feelings.  They  are  only  the  climate 
of  all  his  mind ; talents,  knowledge,  eloquence,  liveliness, 
all  evidently  Christian.” 

“ Archdeacon  Wilberforce  is  gone,  after  preaching  to  us 
at  morning  service  a most  beautiful  sermon  ; I was  going 
to  say  the  most  beautiful  sermon  I ever  heard,  but  that 
phrase  means  little.  It  was  in  manner  and  language  the 
highest  eloquence ; and  his  voice  and  earnest  simplicity 
all  the  time  leave  on  one  no  wish  except  that  one  could 
remember  every  word,  and,  oh ! practise  every  precept. 
The  sermon  we  heard  yesterday  he  wrote  before  break- 
fast, having  come  here  quite  unexpectedly.”  ^ 

Later  on,  the  same  graceful  pen  writes : — 

“Just  before  church-time,  the  Queen  told  me  that  Arch- 
deacon Wilberforce  was  going  to  preach,  so  I had  my 
treat  most  unexpectedly — mercifully  I could  call  it — for 
the  sermon,  expressed  in  his  usual  golden  sweetness  of 
language,  was  peculiarly  practical  and  useful  to  myself — 
I mean,  ought  to  be.  ‘ Hold  thee  still  in  the  Lord,  and 

* Ibid., — p.  220. 


42 


Samuel  Wilberforce  : 


[1844 

abide  patiently  upon  Him,’  was  the  text ; and  the  peace, 
trust,  and  rest  which  breathed  in  every  sentence  ought 
to  do  something  towards  assuaging  any  and  every 
worret,  temporal  and  spiritual.  There  were  some  beauti- 
ful passages  on  looking  forward  into  ‘ the  misty  future  ’ 
and  its  misery,  to  a worldly  view,  and  the  contrary. 
The  whole  was  rather  the  more  striking  from  its  seeming 
to  come  down  so  gently  upon  the  emblems  of  earthly 
sorrow  [referring  to  the  mourning  for  Prince  Albert’s 
father,  1 844]  ; we  are  such  ‘ a boundless  contiguity  of 
shade.’  ” 

“There  was  a beautiful  passage — I wish  you  could 
have  heard  it,  because  you  could  write  it  out — about 
growth  in  grace  being  greatest  when  mind  and  heart  are 
at  rest  and  in  stillness ; like  the  first  shoot  of  spring, 
which  is  not  forwarded  by  the  storm  or  the  hurricane, 
but  by  the  silent  dews  of  early  dawn.  Another  upon 
the  melancliohj  of  human  life,  most  beautiful  because  most 
true.”  ^ 

I remember  once  saying  to  him,  ‘ Ho  you  not  think 
that  if  a man  must  preach  extempore  he  had  better  be 
unprovided  with  notes  of  any  kind  V — ‘ Tell  me  why.’ — 
‘ Because  notes  are  so  apt  to  puzzle  one.  They  are  like 
something  pulling  at  one’s  sleeve,  and  only  serve  to  put 
one  out.’ — ‘No,’  he  replied,  slowly  and  thoughtfully,  ‘it 
certainly  is  not  the  case  with  me.  I must  always  take 
something  up  into  the  pulpit  with  me.  I feel  so  nervous 
else.’ — ‘ You  nervous  % ’ — ‘ Yes,  indeed  : I require  to  have 
something  before  me,  if  it  be  but  a bundle  of  blank  paper.’ 
And  many  will  remember  that  even  when  he  was  known 
to  be  furnished  with  a written  discourse,  (or  at  least 
with  the  nearest  approach  to  such  a document  which 
he  ever  allowed  himself),  he  would  sometimes  use  it 
wondrous  sparingly ; enlarging  with  considerable  fervour 
and  great  fluency,  as  well  as  felicity,  on  some  aspect  of 

^ Life, — i.  p.  221. 


1865]  The  Remodeller  of  the  Episcopate.  43 

the  subject  which  suddenly  presented  itself,  and  for 
which  he  had  evidently  made  no  written  preparation. 
Here  again,  however,  it  would  be  well  if  those  who 
mistake  the  power  of  talking  in  the  pulpit,  for  the  art  of 
preaching  from  pulpit, — would  attend  to  the  statement 

which  Samuel  Wilberforce  once  made  to  a friend,  ‘ that 
he  owed  his  facility  of  speech  mainly  to  the  pains  his 
Father  had  taken  with  him  that  he  might  acquire  the 
habit  of  speaking.  The  elder  Wilberforce  used  to  cause 
his  son  to  make  himself  well  acquainted  with  a given  subject, 
and  then  speak  on  it  without  notes.  Thus  his  memory 
and  his  power  of  mentally  arranging  his  subject  were 
strengthened.’  ^ Mr.  Pitt  in  his  boyhood  was  trained  in 
the  same  way  by  his  Father,  the  great  Earl  of  Chatham. 
It  constantly  happened,  in  fact,  that  Wilberforce  was 
constrained  to  preach,  when  to  write  out  what  he  pro- 
posed to  say  was  simply  impossible.  The  Bishop  of  S. 
Albans  (Dr.  Claughton)  tells  me  that  on  a certain  occa- 
sion he  heard  Wilberforce  describe  with  such  singular 
eloquence  and  power  the  effect  on  the  soul  of  the  clearing 
away  of  intellectual  doubts,  that  he  begged  to  be  shown 
the  MS.  from  which  his  friend  had  been  preaching. 
Wilberforce  put  the  document  into  his  hands,  turned 
to  the  page  which  contained  the  passage  inquired  after, 
and  showed  him  a blank  sheet  of  paper,  inscribed  with 
the  single  word— /by. 

But,  as  already  hinted,  this  facility  of  expression  and 
readiness, — however  it  may  have  been  aided,  in  his  case, 
by  genius  and  natural  aptitude  for  speaking, — was  the 
result  of  something  else  besides  practice.  There  had 
gone  before  the  patient  labour  of  many  years.  There  is 
in  truth  no  ‘royal  road’  to  excellence  in  this  department. 

*■  Ihid.  — p.  149. 


44  Samuel  Wilberforce:  [1865 

Very  instructive  is  it  to  find  repeated  entries  in  Wilber- 
force’s  Diary  of  early  risings  ‘to  write  greater  part  of 
sermon.’  His  Diaries  teem  with  such  entries  as  this, — 

‘ Up  early,  and  wrote  sermon.  When  in  Church,  saw  it 
would  be  unsuitable,  so  changed  subject  and  preached 
extempore.’  Nothing,  however,  but  that  mastery  of  the 
art  of  preaching  which  results  from  laborious  painstaking 
could  have  enabled  him  to  do  the  thing  he  speaks  of, 
however  much  he  might  have  desired  it. 

He  was  so  often  called  upon  to  occupy  the  pulpit, 
that  it  was  a downright  relief  and  pleasure  to  him  to 
hear  the  Sermons  of  others ; and  if,  on  the  one  hand, 
he  resented  stupid,  aimless,  lifeless  addresses,  and  could 
say  terribly  sarcastic  things  about  them,  no  man  was 
ever  more  indulgent  and  appreciative  of  whatever  was 
at  least  interesting  and  well-meant,  and  had  anything 
of  thought  and  actual  purpose.  But  where  there  was 
genius  and  real  excellence,  he  would  descant  on  such  an 
one’s  pulpit  performances  with  downright  zest  and 
pleasure. — Once,  at  S.  Mary’s,  after  listening  to  a 
sermon  by  Dr.  Scott,  late  Dean  of  Rochester,  then 
Master  of  Balliol,  he  exclaimed  (turning  short  round  to 
the  present  writer), — ‘ I think  that  is  the  most  beautiful 
sermon  I ever  heard  in  my  life.’  (The  text  was,  ‘ For  to 
me  to  live  is  Christ,  and  to  die  is  gain.’) — On  another 
occasion,  sitting  among  his  friends  one  evening  when 
the  late  Bishop  of  Ely  (then  one  of  his  chaplains)  was 
somewhere  preaching  one  of  a course  of  Lenten  sermons, 
he  took  out  his  watch  and  said, — ‘ Woodford  is  now  be- 
ginning his  sermon.  He  has  got  to  preach  on  ’ (naming 
the  subject).  ‘He  will  select  for  his  text’  (and  he 
guessed  what  the  text  would  be).  ‘ He  will  begin  by 
taking  a wide  sweep  of  the  ground  ’ — (suiting  the  action 


1865]  The  Remodeller  of  the  Episcopate.  45 

to  the  word  by  waving  his  arm) ; — ‘ then  he  will  narrow 
his  flight,  and  at  last  he  will  come  down  and  fasten  on,’ 
&c.  &c.  ...  I found  that  he  had  guessed  the  text  rightly. 
The  picture  of  the  preacher’s  method  was  perfect. 

If  he  were  passing  the  Sunday  in  Oxford,  he  would 
often  relate  how  he  had  stepped  into  this  or  that  church, 
and  listened  to  one  of  his  friends  for  a few  minutes, 
repeating  what  he  had  heard,  and  testifying  the  same 
kind  of  interest  as  was  testified  by  others  when  they 
came  to  listen  to  himself.  With  the  modesty  of  real 
genius,  he  would  even,  when  very  tired,  on  being  some- 
what suddenly  called  upon  to  address  a congregation, 
exclaim  to  the  friend  he  was  with, — “ Tell  me  what  to 
say.”  And  it  was  delightful,  as  well  as  interesting  in  a 
high  degree,  to  watch  his  countenance  while  you  hastily 
set  a thought  before  him,  and  indicated  how  you  sup- 
posed it  might  be  made  useful  and  impressive.  But  his 
greater  efforts  were  to  a singular  extent  his  own,  and  in 
the  best  sense  of  the  word  ‘ original.’  His  strength  did 
not  lie  so  much  in  the  exposition  of  obscure  passages  of 
Scripture,  or  in  the  eliciting  of  important  ethical  teach- 
ing from  unpromising  texts,  as  in  the  living  power  with 
which  he  brought  home  Divine  precepts  to  the  heart  and 
conscience  of  his  auditory.  Bemarks  on  the  subject  of 
preaching  are  to  be  met  with  in  certain  of  his  Charges 
and  Addresses,  full  of  practical  value  and  power.  These, 
coming  from  so  great  a master,  it  would  well  repay  any 
one  the  trouble  to  collect. 

He  was  indefatigable,  during  the  earlier  years  of  his  resi- 
dence in  London,  in  going  about  to  hear  the  most  famous 
preachers  of  the  day, — morning,  afternoon,  evening, — 
and  making  notes  of  their  sermons.  (0  the  caustic  bitter- 


46 


Samuel  Wilberforce  : 


[1835 

ness  of  his  conversational  comments  on  what  he  had 
heard  in  certain  half-empty  West-end  churches !)  Being 
on  a visit  to  the  Macbrides  at  Oxford  in  1835, — 

‘ On  Sunday  I heard  Denison  of  Merton  preach  at  S. 
Mary’s, — a good  plain  sermon,  much  listened  to : with 
no  great  talent,  I thought,  of  any  sort,  but  good.  In  the 
next  place  I heard  Hamilton,  late  of  Ch.  Ch.,  now  tutor 
at  Merton.  He  and  Denison  have  charge  of  S.  Peter’s. 
Hamilton  preached  with  a good  deal  of  feeling,  and 
is  thought  a first-rate  preacher.  Then  I heard  Newman, 
who  preached  a beautiful  sermon  upon  “ Whosoever 
receiveth  one  of  these  little  ones.”  ’ ^ 

“ If  you  were  called  upon  ” — (the  question  was  once 
put  to  one  of  the  Bishop’s  greatest  intimates) — “ to  state 
wherein  lay  the  secret  of  Wilberforce’s  success,  what 
should  you  say  1 “ In  his  Rower  of  sympathy  f was  the 

ready  answer ; and  it  was  probably  the  true  one.  There 
never  was  a more  enthusiastic  sympathizer  with  his 
Clergy.  He  was  large-hearted,  liberal,  generous  to  a fault ; 
prompt  to  enter  into  every  one’s  needs,  difficulties,  dis- 
couragements ; prepared  to  throw  himself  heart  and  soul 
into  any  project  which  seemed  to  him  capable  of  being 
successfully  worked,  and  which  had  good  for  its  object. 
He  was  courageous  also  in  such  matters  to  the  verge 
of  indiscretion ; evinced  no  official  stiffness  about  initiating 
a novelty,  provided  it  carried  on  its  front  the  promise  of 
good ; but,  on  the  contrary,  must  walk  straight  to  the 
front,  and  take  the  lead  in  whatever  experiment  seemed 
to  him  worth  the  trial.  And  then,  how  he  graced  the 
leadership  which  by  common  suffrage  would  have  been 
assigned  to  him,  even  had  it  not  been  his  by  right ! His 
ready  eloquence,  his  delightful  manner,  his  genial  warmth, 
ensured  the  success  of  whatever  he  undertook.  To  the 


® Life—i.  p.  87. 


1865]  The  Remodeller  of  the  Episcopate.  47 

friendship  of  men  of  the  school  called  ‘ Evangelical  ’ he 
had  an  inherited  claim.  But  then  he  also  reckoned  men 
of  the  very  opposite  way  of  thinking  among  his  chiefest 
friends,  and  had  a measure  of  genuine  sympathy  for  all. 
In  this  way  he  not  only  drew  strangers  to  himself,  but 
bound  them  fast  when  they  once  came  within  the  sphere 
of  his  immediate  influence.  His  temperament  effected 
more.  It  conciliated  prejudice,  broke  down  opposition, 
cemented  confidence  and  affection.  Earnest  and  enthu- 
siastic spirits,  attracted  to  him  by  the  natural  affinity  of 
like  natures,  were  made  more  earnest,  more  enthusiastic, 
by  his  example.  Long  before  his  translation  to  Win- 
chester he  had  gathered  round  himself  whatever  of  real 
ability  and  earnestness  there  was  to  be  found  in  the 
Oxford  diocese.  No  man  in  truth  ever  got  more  out  of 
his  Clergy  than  he.  They  did — whatever  he  bade  them 
do ; and  he  bade  them  do — as  much  as  he  thought  they 
were  capable  of  doing.  If  any  disliked  him,  it  was  the 
timorous,  the  secular,  the  obstructive.  As  for  the  men 
who  neglected  their  parishes,  their  churches,  their  work, 
— they  hated  him  with  a cordial  hatred.  Few  things, — 
nothing  perhaps,  was  more  remarkable  than  the  art  he 
had  of  screwing  up  ‘to  concert  pitch,’ — (so  to  express 
oneself,) — men  whose  traditions  were  lax  and  unsatis- 
factory, but  who,  in  his  society  and  under  his  influence, 
became  really  very  respectable  churchmen. 

Let  the  whole  truth,  however,  be  stated : for  we  may  be 
thought  to  have  been  drawing  an  ideal  picture.  It  is 
obvious  for  a reader  to  inquire, — The  man’s  gifts  and 
graces  being  such  as  you  have  described,  and  the  ends 
to  which  he  directed  them  so  admirable,  are  we  to  under- 
stand that  we  have  before  us  a character  without  a flaw  % 
Nothing  of  the  sort ! His  very  excellences  were  a snare 


48  Samuel  Wilberforge : [1865 

to  him  ; his  very  gifts  and  graces  proved  his  most  effectual 
hindrances.  He  was  foo  clever,  too  self-reliant,  whereby 
he  often  put  himself  in  a false  position,  and  exposed  him- 
self to  unfriendly  criticism.  Again,  he  was  too  persuasive, 
too  fascinating  in  his  manner,  too  fertile  in  expedients  ; 
and  thus  he  furnished  not  a few  with  pleas  for  suspecting 
him  of  insincerity.  Sure  of  himself  and  unsuspicious  of 
others,  he  was  habitually  too  confiding,  too  unguarded  in 
his  utterances.  But  above  all,  his  besetting  fault  was 
that  he  was  a vast  deal  too  facile.  The  consequence 
might  have  been  foreseen.  He  was  sometimes  obliged  to 
‘ hark  back,’ — to  revoke, — to  unsay.  This  occasioned 
distrust.  Notwithstanding  his  mastery  of  the  prin- 
ciples of  Anglo-Catholic  divinity,  it  may  be  questioned 
whether,  at  the  outset  of  his  career,  he  had  that  clear 
perception  of  where  to  draw  the  line, — which  in  one  so 
conspicuous  as  he  was,  early  entrusted  with  such  a vast 
amount  of  responsibility,  is  even  indispensable  ; especially 
if  his  lot  be  cast  in  perilous  times,  and  in  what  may 
be  emphatically  termed  a transition  period  of  the  Church’s 
history.  Accordingly,  Wilberforce  would  sometimes 
adventure  the  partial  allowance  of  views  and  practices, 
against  which,  on  mature  reflection,  he  must  have  seen 
that  he  would  have  acted  more  wisely  if  he  had  from  the 
beginning  set  his  face  like  a flint.  He  was — (one  can 
but  repeat  it)  — too  fond  of  being  ‘all  things  to  all  men,’ 
— too  apt  to  commit  himself  through  his  very  versatility 
and  large-heartedness.  All  this  did  harm.  Moreover,  (as 
I have  already  freely  intimated),  he  does  not  aspire 
to  the  praise  of  being  a really  learned  Divine.  Divinity, 
I mean,  as  a Science,  he  had  never  profoundly  studied. 
Engaged  from  the  first  in  the  practical  duties  of  the 
sacred  ofiice,  how  was  it  possible  that  he  should  have 
attained  that  mastery  of  the  problem  which  is  the 


1865]  The  Remodeller  of  the  Episcopate.  49 

appropriate  reward  of  learned  leisure  and  prolonged 
opportunities  of  laborious  study  ? Hence,  his  condoning 
of  Hampden,  and  his  seeming  allowance  (sometimes  in 
conversation)  of  German  authors  whose  writings  the 
Church  deservedly  holds  in  abhorrence. 

Yet  once  more.  His  instincts  were  admirable  : and  no 
one  who  knew  him  will  doubt  that  he  was  thoroughly 
loyal  to  the  Reformed  Church  of  England.  His  anti- 
Romish  utterances  are  as  strong  and  as  grand  as  any  that 
are  anywhere  to  be  met  with  ; and  he  meant  every  word 
he  said, — perhaps  a little  more.  Indeed,  he  never  made 
any  secret  of  his  uncompromising  detestation  of  the 
whole  Popish  system,  with  the  depths  and  the  shallows 
of  which  he  showed  himself  intimately  acquainted : his 
vigorous  understanding  often  enabling  him,  in  a few 
manly  sentences,  utterly  to  demolish  the  sophistries  of 
its  advocates,  whether  of  the  Anglican  or  of  the  Romish 
communion  ; as  well  as  to  expose  the  essential  hollow- 
ness of  the  method,  together  with  its  fatal  tendencies — 
moral,  intellectual,  social.  Certain  of  his  Sermons,  in 
truth,  would  well  repay  the  labour  of  republication  at 
this  time,  and  would  be  an  acceptable  contribution  to 
the  requirements  of  the  coming  age.  But  then  (as 
explained  above)  it  was  at  once  his  misfortune  and  his 
privilege,  in  following  Bishop  Bagot  in  the  see  of  Oxford, 
to  find  himself  floated  by  a rapidly  rising  tide,  amid 
currents  and  eddies  which  were  enough  to  perplex  the 
ablest  of  steersmen.  “ It  does  seem  strange/’ — wrote  Dr. 
Pusey,  on  the  day  of  the  reading  of  the  co7ige  cVelire^ — 
“ and  is,  I trust,  a token  of  God’s  mercy,  that  whereas 
some  of  the  offices  of  a bishop  would  seem  fitted  to  your 
natural  gifts,  you  should  by  God’s  appointment  have 
been  called  to  a see  which  most  of  all  requires  super- 

VOL.  II.  E 


50 


Samuel  Wilberforce  : 


[1865 

naturair^  The  desertion  of  Dr.  Newman  to  the  opposite 
camp  (1845)  had  brought  matters  to  a crisis.  That 
event  took  place  in  the  year  tohen  Wilberforce  was  called 
to  the  episcopate;  and  only  those  who  were  resident  in 
the  University  at  the  time  can  have  any  idea  of  the 
atmosphere  of  unhealthy  excitement  which  prevailed 
before  and  after  the  date  referred  to, — the  result  chiefly 
of  the  publication  of  Ward’s  ^ Ideal’  and  of  Newman’s 
‘ Tract  No.  90.’  A terrible  shock  had  been  given  to  the 
moral  sense  of  the  place  by  the  monstrous  claim  to  read 
English  formularies  in  Romish  senses, — a shock  which  it 
has  not  to  this  day  recovered.  There  followed  a terrible 
recoil.  At  the  end  of  a decade  of  years  (1854)  came  the 
Universities’  Commission.  All  this  has  been  explained 
at  great  length  already,  and  the  reader  who  cares  for 
more  information  on  the  subject  is  referred  to  an  earlier 
page. 

In  the  meantime  the  consequences  became  apparent  of 
the  uncatholic  impress  which  had  already  been  given 
to  the  great  Church  movement  already  referred  to, — 
a movement  which,  in  fact,  began  with  the  second 
quarter  of  the  present  century,  but  under  widely  dif- 
ferent auspices.  Bishop  Wilberforce  found  himself  for  the 
last  twenty  years  of  his  episcopate  brought  face  to  face 
with  a problem  which, — without  disrespect  to  his  loved 
memory,  or  disparagement  of  his  amazing  powers, — it 
may  be  fairly  questioned  whether  even  he  was  competent 
to  resolve.  Allusion  is,  of  course,  made  to  what  had 
better  be  called  by  its  right  name, — ^^the  Romeward  2, f\- 
tation,  which,  as  most  of  us  are  aware,  speedily  grew 
out  of,  or  at  least  resulted  from, — the  teaching  called 
‘ Tractarian.’  Wilberforce’s  sentiments  on  this  subject, 
stated  by  himself,  will  be  found  below,  from  p.  54  to  p.  59. 

® Life, — i.  p.  300.  ''  See  above, — vol.  i.  pp.  312-20. 


1865]  The  Remodeller  of  the  Episcopate.  51 

Let  this  part  of  the  question  be  carefully  handled:  for 
it  has  been  the  endeavour  of  a section  of  the  Church  at 
the  present  day  to  misrepresent  the  plain  facts  of  the 
case.  Quite  a distinct,  quite  a different  thing  from  that 
great  Catholic  movement,  to  which,  as  young  men, 
— under  the  grand  leadership  of  Hugh  James  Rose — 
Newman,  Palmer,  Keble,  Isaac  Williams,  Harrison,  Pusey, 
Marriott  and  others  contributed  their  genius,  their  piety, 
their  learning,  their  influence, — is  the  miserable  counter- 
feit which  has  since  come  to  the  front,  and  at  this  instant 
claims  to  represent  ‘ the  High  Church  party.’  That  the 
thing  called  ‘ Ritualism  ’ is  the  outcome  of  the  later 
‘ Tractarianism  ’ is  undeniable  ; but  it  bears  the  same 
kind  of  relation  to  it  which  farce  bears  to  tragedy. 
Even  more  alien  to  its  parent  is  it,  in  sentiment  and 
expression,  if  possible,  than  modern  Wesleyanism  is  to 
the  actual  teaching  of  John  Wesley.  It  is  difficult  to 
write  down  the  names  of — well,  never  mind  their  names 
— and  gravely  to  ask  oneself.  What  would  ‘Mr.  Newman  ’ 
have  thought  of  such  mountebank  disciples  h “ Abishoi3’s 
lightest  word,  eoc  cathedra^  is  heavy,”  Mr.  Newman  told 
us.  “ His  judgment  on  a book  cannot  be  light.”  Address- 
ing Bishop  Bagot  in  1841, — “I  trust  I may  say  sincerely 
that  I shall  feel  a more  lively  pleasure  in  knowing  that 
I was  submitting  myself  to  your  Lordship’s  expressed 
judgment  in  a matter  of  this  kind  ” (the  withdrawal  of 
any  of  his  own  ^Tracts  for  the  Times’)  “than  I could 
have  even  in  the  widest  circulation  of  the  volumes  in 
question.”  Learning  from  his  Bishop  that,  in  his 
judgment,  “Tract  No.  90  was  objectionable,  and  might 
tend  to  disturb  the  peace  and  tranquillity  of  the 
Church  ; ” and  further,  that  he  advised  that  “ the  ‘ Traets 
for  the  Tmies’  should  be  discontinued,” — “I  do  most 
cheerfully  and  readily  obey  you  in  this  instance”  (he 


52  Samuel  Wilberforce  : [1865 

wrote),  “ and  at  the  same  time  express  my  great  sorrow 
that  any  writing  of  mine  should  be  judged  objectionable 
by  your  Lordship,  and  of  a disturbing  tendency,  and  my 
hope  that  in  what  I write  in  the  future  I shall  be  more 
successful  in  approving  myself  to  your  Lordship.”  ...  It  is 
not  thus  that  certain  individuals,  who  shall  be  nameless, 
nor,  indeed,  members  of  the  ‘ English  Church  Union  ’ gene- 
rally, express  themselves. — But  to  return,  and  to  proceed. 

The  influence  of  the  Oxford  movement  on  the  country 
at  large  was  unquestionably  excellent.  Men  had  been 
taught  to  “ ask  for  the  old  paths.”  The  Clergy  every- 
where were  observed  to  propose  to  themselves  a loftier 
standard  than  had  been  dreamed  of  by  their  immediate 
predecessors.  There  was  a general  revival  in  things 
ecclesiastical,  and  the  Oxford  diocese  in  particular  bore 
the  impress  of  a change  greatly  for  the  better.  It  may 
be  suspected,  without  a shadow  of  disloyalty  to  Wilber- 
force’s memory,  that  had  he  brought  to  the  episcopate 
certain  other  gifts,  besides  those  splendid  administrative 
qualifications  with  which  we  have  already  credited 
him  so  freely,  it  would  have  fared  better  with  the 
Church  of  England  at  this  time.  Enthusiasm  sometimes 
requires  to  be  guided  as  well  as  promoted ; to  be  checked 
as  well  as  to  be  guided ; and  only  checked  in  one 
direction  in  order  that  it  may  break  out  more  usefully 
in  another.  Wilberforce’s  leading  idea  was  to  promote 
activity  in  his  diocese.  He  welcomed  earnestness,  as 
such,  wherever  he  found  it ; and  flattered  himself  that  he 
should  always  be  in  time  to  check  or  to  restrain  the 
men,  who,  in  the  meantime,  availed  themselves  of  the 
sanction  of  his  great  name  and  authority  to  push  forward 
their  own  well-meant  (but  by  no  means  always  judicious) 
crotchets.  Conscious  of  his  own  powers  of  government, 


1865]  The  Remodeller  of  the  Episcopate.  53 

of  his  personal  influence,  of  the  loyalty  and  devotedness 
of  the  great  bulk  of  his  Clergy,  Wilberforce  often  suffered 
things  to  go  too  far  in  a direction  which,  in  his  inmost 
heart,  he  entirely  disallowed.  In  consequence,  he  was 
occasionally  destined  to  make  the  dreary  discovery  that 
some  of  his  lieutenants  had  played  him  false ; had  been 
wanting  in  honesty.  An  explosion  in  the  diocese  was 
sure  to  follow,  and  this  did  more  than  alienate  confidence 
from  him.  It  created  downright  suspicion  and  distrust, 
which  was  not  the  less  reasonable  because  personally  he 
did  not  deserve  it.  The  mischief,  moreover,  had  been 
done,  and  could  not  be  undone.  The  offshoots  of  error 
could  never  afterwards  be  eradicated.  A more  wary,  or 
let  it  be  called  a less  trustful  spirit,  would  have  selected 
his  lieutenants  with  more  caution:  would  have  been 
more  solicitous  to  cut  off  occasions  of  offence : would 
have  considered  that  a Diocese  is  for  all  time,  whereas  a 
Bishop’s  incumbency  is  but  for  a brief  span  of  years  : 
and  that  allowance,  if  not  encouragement,  given  at  one 
period  to  unsound  principles  and  unlawful  practices, 
cannot  be  withdrawn  at  another:  lastly,  would  have 
bethought  himself  that  when  a Bishop’s  three  brothers, 
two  brothers-in-law,  only  daughter  and  son-in-law,  not 
to  mention  many  of  his  personal  intimates,  have  lapsed 
to  Bomanism,  the  outer  world  must  needs  look  on  sus- 
piciously, and  be  prepared  to  misinterpret  every  act  of 
his  which  may  seem  to  point  in  the  dreaded  direction. 
And  will  anyone  say  that  those  men  were  to  be  severely 
blamed  who,  educated  in  a widely  different  school,  and 
beyond  all  things  solicitous  for  maintaining  purity  of 
doctrine,  as  well  as  resolved  to  be  found  faithful  them- 
selves to  the  teaching  of  the  Church  of  England,  de- 
claimed passionately  against  what,  in  their  eyes,  was 
nothing  else  but  the  betrayal  of  a sacred  trust  ? 


54  Samuel  Wilberforge:  [1873 

And  yet,  as  I began  by  saying,  Wilberforce  himself 
was  faithful,  faithful  to  the  backbone,  in  his  allegiance 
to  the  Reformed  Church  of  England.  A thorough  grasp 
too  had  he  of  the  questions  which  have  of  late  vexed  her 
peace.  Never  certainly  in  his  life  did  he  express  himself 
more  nobly  in  this  behalf  than  at  the  very  end  of  his 
career,  when  (15th  July,  1873,  only  four  days  before  his 
death)  he  delivered  a memorable  Address  (unwritten) 
to  the  Rural  Deans  of  his  diocese  at  Winchester  House. 
Heartily  is  it  to  be  deplored  that  he  did  not  live  to  fulfil 
the  promise  which  he  made  on  the  spot  to  those  who 
heard  it,  in  reply  to  their  earnest  and  unanimous  request 
that  he  would  write  out  and  print  what  he  had  spoken. 
But  notes  of  his  discourse  were  freely  taken  by  many 
present,  and  from  a comparison  of  these,  the  substance 
of  what  he  uttered,  (and  in  some  cases  clearly  the  very 
phraseology  he  employed),  was  recovered  and  printed  in 
a precious  pamphlet  of  eighteen  pages, — which,  however, 
only  too  clearly  reveals  in  every  part  the  secret  of  its 
preparation.  A few  extracts  from  this  remarkable  but 
little-known  production — (which  has  been  well  entitled 
by  its  editor^  ^ He  being  dead,  yet  speakeW) — will  be 
fitly  introduced  in  this  place.  The  sentiments  acquire 
additional  solemnity  from  the  circumstance  that  they 
were  the  very  last  which  Bishop  Wilberforce  publicly 
delivered.  He  began : — 

“ I do  not  doubt,  my  reverend  brethren,  that  the 
extreme  views,  and  extreme  practices  which  are  spring- 
ing up  around  us,  are  as  much  a source  of  regret  to  you 
as  to  myself.  In  bringing  the  subject  before  you  to-day, 
I am  acting  against  the  advice  of  some  whom  I greatly 
respect.  But  I have  thought  it  the  most  manly  and 
straightforward  course,  to  face  the  question  and  take 

® The  late  lamented  Et.  Eev.  J.  S.  Utterton,  Bishop  of  Guildford. 


1873]  The  Remodeller  of  the  Episcopate.  55 

counsel  with  you  as  to  the  mode  in  which  it  is  most 
desirable  to  deal  with  these  things.” 

He  gave  the  foremost  place  to  a doctrine  which,  about 
that  time,  was  being  urged  by  the  ‘ Ritualistic  ’ sect  with 
a vehemence  and  a pertinacity,  which  was  only  intelli- 
gible when  the  discovery  was  made  (but  not  till  after  his 
death)  of  the  principles  of  the  ^Society  of  the  Holy 
Cross '' : — 

“Great  prominence  is  given  to  the  subject  of  Con- 
fession. The  tendency  of  the  doctrine  now  put  forward 
on  this  subject  is  to  exalt  its  use  into  a necessity  of  the 
Christian  life.  Now,  I have  no  doubt  in  my  own  mind 
what  is  the  true  teaching  of  the  Church  of  England  on 
this  point.  It  is,  that  Christ  has  lodged  with  His  Church 
the  power  of  Absolution  by  the  Word,  the  Sacraments, 
and  the  Ministry:  these  are  the  ordinary  means  of 
relieving  the  sins  and  sorrows  of  His  people,  and  con- 
veying the  assurance  of  pardon  to  the  penitent.  Then, 
in  particular  cases,  for  souls  specially  burdened  with  Sin, 
besides  this  primary  doctrine  laid  down  and  insisted 
upon  by  our  great  Reformers,  there  is  a direction  to 
make  particular  Confession  as  the  mode  of  obtaining 
relief. 

“ But  this  is  an  essentially  different  doctrine  from  that 
which  it  is  now  sought  to  establish,  viz.,  that  habitual 
Confession  is  almost  necessary  for  the  leading  of  the 
higher  Christian  life;  This  leads  on  rapidly  to  the  old 
habit  of  believing  that  private  Confession  of  sin  before 
the  great  High  Priest  is  insufficient ; and  that  without 
Confession  to  a priest,  a man  cannot  be  sure  of  pardon, 
and  especially  cannot  draw  near  to  God  in  the  Holy 
Sacrament. 

“ Now,  this  system  of  Confession  is  one  of  the  worst 
developments  of  Popery.  In  the  first  place,  as  regards 
the  Feniteiit^  it  is  a system  of  unnatural  excitement,  a sort 
of  spiritual  dram-drinking,  fraught  with  evil  to  the 
whole  spiritual  constitution.  It  is  nothing  short  of  the 
renunciation  of  the  great  charge  of  a conscience  which 


56 


Samuel  Wilberforce  : 


[1873 

God  has  committed  to  every  man, — the  substitution  of 
Confession  to  Man  for  the  opening  of  the  heart  to  God, — 
the  adopting  in  every  case  of  a remedy  only  adapted  to 
extreme  cases  which  can  find  relief  in  no  other  way. 

“ Then,  in  Families  it  introduces  untold  mischief.  It 
supersedes  God’s  appointment  of  intimacy  between  hus- 
band and  wife,  father  and  children ; substituting  another 
influence  for  that  which  ought  to  be  the  nearest  and 
closest,  and  producing  reserve  and  estrangement  where 
there  ought  to  be  perfect  freedom  and  openness. 

“Lastly,  as  regards  the  Priest  to  whom  Confession  is 
made,  it  brings  in  a wretched  system  of  casuistry.  But, 
far  worse  than  this,  it  necessitates  the  terrible  evil  of 
familiar  dealing  with  Sin,  specially  with  sins  of  unclean- 
ness ; thereby  sometimes  even  tending  to  their  growth, 
by  making  the  horrible  particulars  known  to  those  who 
have  hitherto  been  innocent  of  such  fatal  knowledge, 
and  so  poisoning  the  mind  of  priest  and  people  alike : — a 
fact  which  has  of  late  been  very  painfully  brought  home 
to  me.” 

He  addressed  himself  next  to  certain  ‘ Kitualistic  ’ 
novelties  in  connection  with  the  Holy  Eucharist : — 

“ It  is  difficult  to  estimate  the  mischief  which  is 
resulting  from  the  action  of  the  high  Ritualistic  party  in 
this  matter.  ...  It  is  not  in  a light  sense  that  I say  this 
new  doctrine  of  Easting  Communion  is  dangerous. 
The  practice  is  not  advocated  because  a man  comes  in  a 
clearer  spirit  and  less  disturbed  body  and  mind,  able  to 
give  himself  entirely  to  Prayer  and  Communion  with  his 
God  ; but  on  a miserable  degraded  notion  that  the  conse- 
crated elements  will  meet  with  other  food  in  the  stomach. 
It  is  a detestable  materialism.  Philosophically  it  is  a 
contradiction  ; because,  when  the  celebration  is  over,  you 
may  hurry  away  to  a meal,  and  the  process  about  which 
you  were  so  scrupulous  immediately  follows.  The  whole 
notion  is  simply  disgusting.  The  Patristic  quotations 
by  which  the  custom  is  supported  are  misquotations. 
S.  Chrysostom’s  saying  on  the  subject  applies  to  the  full 
mid-day  meal,  not  to  the  light  repast  of  our  ordinary 


1873]  The  Remodeller  of  the  Episcopate.  57 

breakfast.  It  is  put  on  the  moral  grounds  that  after  a 
feast  there  will  be  fulness,  and  during  a feast  there 
will  be  jesting  and  talking,  all  which  constitute  a moral 
unfitness  for  so  high  a ceremonial. 

“ Then,  what  a dangerous  consequence  results  in  non- 
COMMUNICATINQ  ATTENDANCE.  Pressed  not  even  for 
physical  reasons,  it  brings  us  back  to  the  great  abuse  of 
coming  to  the  Sacrament  to  be  spectators  instead  of 
partakers;  and  so  we  have  the  condition  of  things  arising 
in  our  Communion  which  already  prevails  in  the  Church 
of  Pome.  I heard  of  a Roman  Catholic  priest  triumph- 
ing greatly  in  the  fact  that  he  had  two  male  communicants. 
I went  to  the  church  of  the  Madeleine,  in  Paris,  at 
5.30  a.m.,  several  times,  in  order  to  observe  what  was 
the  practice.  It  was  always  the  same  thing : the  priest 
communicating  alone,  or  one  or  two  women  occasionally 
joining  him, — the  whole  attendant  congregation  satisfied 
to  remain  looking  on. 

“ That  this  custom  is  creeping  into  our  Church  is  not  an 
accident;  neither  is  it  brought  in  for  the  purpose  of 
making  children  better  acquainted  with  the  Service.  . . . 
It  is  recommended  under  quite  a different  impression.  It  is 
under  the  idea  that  prayer  is  more  acceptable  at  this 
time  of  the  Sacrifice ; that  you  can  get  benefit  from 
being  within  sight  of  the  Sacrament  when  it  is  being 
administered.  It  is  the  substitution  of  a semi-materialistic 
presence  for  the  actual  presence  of  Cheist  in  the  soul 
of  the  faithful  communicant.  It  is  an  ahomination, — 
this  teaching  of  non-communicating  attendance  as  a 
common  habit.  It  is  a corollary  on  the  practice  of 
Fasting  Communion.  If  you  cannot  fast  till  midday, 
and  must  not  communicate  without  fasting,  then  you  are 
to  be  present  and  expect  the  benefit,  though  you  do  not 
comply  with  the  conditions  of  the  Sacrament.  Thus  the 
Roman  theory  is  creeping  in.  The  sacrificing  Priest 
stands  between  your  soul  and  your  God,  and  makes 
atonement  for  you.  Fasting  till  the  mid-day  Communion 
is  irritation  of  the  nerves,  unfitting  you  to  partake  in 
this  holy  Office.  Come  to  early  Communion,  as  giving 
the  first  of  the  day,  the  freshness  of  the  spirit,  the 


58 


Samuel  Wilberforge  : 


[1873 

unbrokenness  of  the  heart  to  that  great  Service.  But  if 
you  cannot  come  in  the  morning,  have  no  scruple  about 
taking  ordinary  food  before  you  communicate.” 

Some  excellent  remarks  follow  in  condemnation  of 
evening  Communion.  But  the  subjoined  passage  will  be 
read  with  even  more  interest : — 

“I  am  attacked  on  all  sides.  On  the  one  side  I am 
called  a false  friend,  accused  of  betraying  a cause  which 
I once  upheld : on  the  other,  I am  said  to  be  unfaithful 
to  my  own  Church,  and  a concealed  Papist.  I cannot 
say  that  I do  not  feel  such  attacks.  It  is  impossible  not 
to  be  pained  by  them.  It  is  hard  to  bear.  But,  after  all, 
it  is  notlimg  when  weighed  against  the  testimony  of  one’s 
own  conscience ; it  is  nothing  to  make  one  recede  from 
the  course  which  one  believes  to  be  right,  or  to  shake 
one’s  resolution  by  God’s  help  to  maintain  it. 

“Well,  then,  if  we  ought  to  endeavour  to  draw  these 
men  to  us,  and  lead  them  with  us,  instead  of  repelling 
them  from  us,  and  thereby  confirming  their  errors,  my 
advice  to  you  is  this  ; — First,  in  regard  to  Confession.” 

And  the  obvious  cautions  are  given : but  the  remarks 
under  the  second  head  are  more  characteristic : — 

“ Secondly,  in  regard  to  Bitualistic  observances.  There 
is  a growing  desire  to  introduce  novelties,  such  as  in- 
cense,— a multitude  of  lights  in  the  chancel, — and  so  on. 
Now  these  and  such  things  are  honestly  and  truly  alien  to 
the  Church  of  England,  Do  not  hesitate  to  treat  them  as 
such.  All  this  appears  to  me  to  indicate  a fidgety  anxiety 
to  make  everything  in  our  churches  assimilate  to  a 
foreign  usage.  There  is  a growing  feeling,  which  I can 
only  describe  as  an  ‘ ashamedness  ’ of  the  Anglican 
Church,  as  if  our  grand  old  Anglican  Communion  con- 
trasted unfavourably  with  the  Church  of  Rome.  The 
habitual  language  held  by  many  men  sounds  as  if  they 
were  ashamed  of  our  Church  and  its  position : it  is  a sort 
of  apology  for  the  Church  of  England  as  compared  with 
the  Church  of  Rome.  Why,  I would  as  soon  think 


1873]  The  Remodeller  of  the  Episcopate.  59 

OF  APOLOGIZING  FOR  THE  VIRTUE  OF  MY  MOTHER  TO  A 
HARLOT ! I have  no  sympathy  in  the  world  with  such  a 
feeling.  I abhor  this  fidgety  desire  to  make  everything 
un-Anglican.  This  is  not  a grand  development,  as  some 
seem  to  think.  It  is  a decrepitude.  It  is  not  something 
very  sublime  and  impressive,  but  something  very  feeble 
and  contemptible.” 

I dismiss  the  subject  with  the  single  remark  that  any 
attempt,  which  shall  either  now  or  at  any  future  time 
be  made  to  claim  the  author  of  such  sentiments, — (and 
they  were  his  latest  public  utterance  ; they  may  truly  be 
said  to  have  been  his  last  words  ;) — as  a sympathizer  with 
‘ Ritualistic  ’ teaching,  will  clearly  stand  convicted  of 
misstatement.  The  practices  of  the  sect,  their  avowed 
and  their  secret  aims,  were  the  object  of  his  downright 
abhorrence.  Sometimes  he  would  express  his  secret 
personal  dislike  to  the  very  environments  of  the  party 
with  a grotesque  fervour  which  was  irresistible.  “ I 
suspect,”  (I  once  said  to  him),  “you  like  embroidered 
stoles, — surplices  cut  short  at  the  waist, — Gregorian 
chants,  and  so  on.”  “7  like  Gregorian  music  T’  (he 
exclaimed;,  with  a look  of  mingled  terror  and  annoyance). 
“ I assure  you  I never  hear  a Gregorian  without  feeling  a 
wish  to  lie  down  on  my  stomach  and  lioivir 

It  is  time  to  bring  to  a close  the  present  pen-and-ink 
sketch  (it  pretends  to  be  no  more)  of  the  greatest  of 
modern  Bishops.  A feature  of  his  character,  concerning 
which  as  yet  nothing  has  been  spoken,  and  of  which  for 
obvious  reasons  one  shrinks  from  saying  much,  may  yet 
not  be  passed  over  in  entire  silence.  Allusion  is  made  to 
the  devotional  side  of  his  nature, — the  inner  spiritual  life, 
— which  was  deep  and  fervent.  Profoundly  conscious  of 
the  indispensableness  of  Prayer  and  habitual  communing 


6o  Samuel  Wilberforce  : [1865 

with  the  Father  of  Spirits,  he  made  for  himself  oppor- 
tunities in  the  midst  of  his  countless  engagements  and 
the  distractions  of  his  very  busy  life.  The  inscription  over 
the  screen  in  the  private  chapel  of  his  Palace — (‘We 
WILL  GIVE  OURSELVES  CONTINUALLY  TO  PrAYER  AND  TO 
THE  MINISTRY  OF  THE  Word’) — expressed  the  genuine 
longing  of  his  soul.  His  devoutness  in  Communicating 
must  have  struck  all  who  were  ministering  with  him.  He 
evidently  made  it  an  occasion  for  prolonged  and  special 
prayer, — furnishing  himself  with  a Manual,  partly  printed, 
partly  written.  He  always  seemed  to  me  absorbed  in 
the  business  of  the  sanctuary. 

I have  sometimes  thought  that  many-sidedness  was 
Wilberforce’s  most  characteristic  feature.  He  had  an 
inquisitiveness  of  spirit  which  made  him  eager — over 
eager — to  be  en  rapport  with  every  department  of  human 
knowledge.  He  took  interest  in  everything.  Thus, 
Mesmerism  (which  in  1845  was  a novelty)  for  a short 
space  occupied  his  serious  attention ; while  Natural 
History  was  all  his  life  long  nothing  else  but  a passion 
with  him.  He  would  always  enter  into  earnest  debate 
with  an  expert  in  whatsoever  department  of  Science, 
Learning,  or  practical  Experience.  And  yet  the  fact 
cannot  be  overlooked  that  every  other  concern  subordi- 
nated to  the  special  requirements  of  his  own  high 
calling.  In  the  words  of  his  biographer ; — 

“ His  lot  was  cast  in  a period  of  intense  activity  and 
expansion  in  the  Church’s  work  both  at  home  and  in  the 
Colonies  ; and  it  was  not  in  his  nature  to  escape  being 
drawn  in  to  take  an  active  part  in  almost  every  move- 
ment of  his  time.  His  life  was  not  merely  connected 
with,  but  it  actually  involves,  the  history  of  the  English, 
and  in  great  measure  of  the  colonial.  Church  during  his 
Episcopate.  His  colonial  Church  correspondence  was 


1865]  The  Remodeller  of  the  Episcopate.  61 

enormous  ; and,  to  mention  only  two  examples,  it  may 
be  stated  that  the  letters  he  received  on  the  subjects  of 
the  troubles  in  the  Church  of  South  Africa  and  in  Hono- 
lulu, can  only  be  counted  by  hundreds.  Almost  every- 
where his  advice  was  sought,  and  to  every  one  he  gave 
it  freely.  Almost  everywhere  his  co-operation  was  de- 
sired, and  he  was  ready  to  aid  and  work  for  all.”  ^ 

Yes,  this,  the  severer  side  of  the  great  Bishop’s 
character,  must  by  all  means  be  steadily  contemplated  by 
one  who  would  estimate  him  justly.  His  devotion  to  his 
Master’s  service  was  altogether  unexampled.  Some- 
thing has  been  offered  on  this  head  already : ^ but 
indeed  the  extent  to  which  Wilberforce  infused  new  life 
into  his  Diocese  cannot  be  too  emphatically  insisted  upon. 
Matters  of  minute  detail  also  he  never  considered  beneath 
his  notice.  I remember  once, — while  describing  to  him 
some  feature  of  parochial  management  in  connexion  with 
the  little  village  of  Finmere  in  Oxfordshire,^ — breaking 
off  with  an  apology  for  seeking  to  interest  him  in  ‘ what 
must  seem  a very  trifle  to  one  who  had  a Diocese  to 
administer.’  “ Trifle  ! my  dear  Burgon,”  (he  exclaimed,) 
— “And  does  not  the  action  of  the  lungs, — the  pulsation  of 
the  heart, — depend  on  the  veriest  ‘ trifle  ’ . I hold  it 
to  be  an  attribute  of  true  greatness  to  be  able  thus  to  grasp 
as  well  the  most  minute,  as  the  most  considerable,  features 
of  a practical  problem : and  Wilberforce  possessed  this 
quality  in  rare  perfection.  His  administration  of  the 
Episcopal  office  may  be  declared  to  constitute  an  epoch 
in  the  History  of  the  Church  of  England.  His  skill 
in  organising  novel  institutions,  or  in  re-animating  old, 
passes  praise.  And,  so  boundless  was  his  sympathy,  so 

® Introduction,  p.  xvii.  of  Launton,’ — Buckingham,  1887 

^ See  above,  pp.  1 2, 1 9-40, 44-7, &c.  [pp.  57-68]:  a very  meritorious 

^ See  the  ‘ History  of  Finmere,  and  interesting  contribution  to 
compiled  by  J.  C.  Blomfield,  Rector  County  history. 


62 


Samuel  Wilberforce  : 


[1865 

indomitable  his  energy,  that  (as  I began  by  saying)  he 
was  at  all  times  prepared  to  extend  his  regards  and 
to  communicate  his  experience, — to  give  practical  proof 
of  his  good  will, — to  remote  Churches,  and  to  men  between 
whom  and  himself  was  interposed  the  thickness  of  the 
globe.  Queen  Emma  was  for  some  time  his  guest. 

And  now, — shall  I be  blamed  if  I suddenly  reverse, — 
or  at  least  shift, — the  picture?  I 7nust  do  this  if  my 
portraiture  is  to  be  true  to  the  life ! 

Inseparably  mixed  up  with  all  those  solemn  and  affect- 
ing images  which  the  name  of  Samuel  Wilberforce  must 
for  ever  summon  before  the  memory  of  those  who  knew 
him, — are  recollections  of  an  exactly  opposite  character; 
recollections  of  incidents  which  can  only  be  designated 
as  laughahle.  He  was  so  full  of  boyish  spirits,  boyish 
glee, — so  prone  in  his  intercourse  with  those  he  loved  to 
do  and  say  things  brimful  oifmi, — so  versatile,  moreover, 
and  apt  (without  real  levity)  to  descend  from  the  sublime 
to  the  ridiculous  in  a moment,— that  never  yet  have 
reminiscences  concerning  him  been  fairly  awakened 
among  a party  of  his  friends,  without  peals  of  laughter 
being  speedily  elicited  at  the  grotesque  images  which 
every  one  present  was  able  in  turn  to  contribute. 
Staying  once  during  the  dog-days  at  a friend’s  country 
mansion  (Danny  in  Sussex),  it  was  his  hap  to  sit  at  dinner 
next  to  a prosy  old  gentleman,  under  the  influence 
of  whose  conversation  (the  ladies  being  gone)  Wilber- 
force at  last  succumbed,  and  fell  fast  asleep.  He  did 
more,  he  (heamed^ — dreamed  that  he  was  afloat  on  a 
tempestuous  sea : “ And  the  storm  was  so  violent  ” (he 
said  slowly,  aloud,) — “ that  the  ship — could  scarce  live — 
through  the  surge.”  . . . “ Now,  do  you  know,  my  Lord,” 


1865]  The  Remodeller  of  the  Episcopate.  63 

(said  the  old  paidy  solemnly,  after  a pause  of  bewilder- 
ment),— ‘‘  I find  myself  utterly  unable  to  see  the  bearing 
of  that  remark  on  our  previous  conversation.”  The 
Bishop  waking  up  instantly,  and  perceiving  the  gravity 
of  the  situation,  but  knowing  his  man,  rejoined  with  the 
utmost  gravity, — “ Then,  all  I can  say  is,  I’m  adonislied 
at  you  ! Let  us  join  the  ladies : ” and  he  left  his  friend 
in  the  dining-room  more  perplexed  than  ever  by  the 
nautical  image  which  had  brought  the  conversation  so 
suddenly  to  a close. — I may  be  allowed  to  rehearse 
a slight  experience  of  my  own.  There  had  been  a great 
afternoon  gathering  in  the  Sheldonian  (I  think  for  the 
Colonial  Episcopate),  and  Wilberforce  had  wound  up  the 
business  of  the  day  with  a powerful  and  affecting  speech, 
at  the  close  of  which  the  whole  theatre  was  in  an  uproar 
of  applause.  He  telegraphed  to  me  (I  was  in  the  area) 
to  come  up  to  him, — which  he  effected  by  first  pointing 
at  me  with  his  finger,  and  then  pointing  the  same  finger 
vertically  to  his  own  toes.  I obeyed,  wondering  what 
he  could  possibly  want  with  me  at  such  a moment,  and 
painfully  aware  of  the  universal  gaze  of  curiosity  I was 
about  to  incur.  He  leaned  over  and  whispered, — 
“ My  dear  Burgon,  I’ve  quite  forgot  the  fish.  Would  you 
do  me  the  great  kindness  to  go  to  Tester’s,^  and 
order  turbot  and  smelts  for  eighteen  ? with  lobsters 
for  the  sauce  1 ” I merely  nodded  assent,  impatient  to 
be  off,  and  miserably  conscious  that  I must  certainly  ex- 
plode if  he  kept  me  for  another  half-minute  ; but  he  had 
not  quite  done  : — “ Let  all  be  sent  down  to  my  carriage 
at  All  Souls’  immediately,  will  you  % and — do7it  forget  the 
smelts  I ” 

Once,  having  to  preach  at  a church  in  Begent  Street, 

^ ‘ A well-known  fishmonger  in  ference  to  whom  Horace  remarks, — 
the  High  Street, — with  obvious  re-  “ servabit  odorem  Testa  diu.”  ’ 


64  Samuel  Wilberforce : [1865 

on  arriving  at  the  door,  he  encountered  his  friend,  Mrs. 
A.,  in  the  act  of  returning  to  her  carriage. — “ What  ? 
going  away  ? ” — “ Only  because  I can’t  get  in.” — “ Do 
you  mean  that  you  really  imsh.  to  stop  ? ” — “ I came  on 
purpose.” — “ Then,  take  my  arm.” — The  crowd  at  the 
door  was  excessive.  At  last  the  Beadle  appeared;  to 
whom  the  Bishop,  in  his  blandest  manner, — “ You  will  be 
so  good  as  to  give  this  lady  the  best  seat  in  the  church.” 
— “ Impossible,  sir.  Church  quite  full.” — The  Bishop 
calmly,  but  with  emphasis,  repeated  his  orders.  “ Q^uite 
impossible,”  repeated  the  Beadle  ; “ I tell  you,  sir,  the 
church  is  fuUr — “ O but  ” (was  the  rejoinder)  “ I loorit 
preach  if  you  don’t ! ” — This  alarming  threat  at  once 
opened  Bumble’s  eyes.  “ O,  I beg  your  pardon,  my 
Lord  ! ” (winking) : “ this  way,  Marm^'  and  with  the 
utmost  self-importance  he  deposited  Mrs.  A.  in  the 
churchwardens’  luxurious  empty  pew  under  the  pulpit. 

Wilberforce’s  repartee  to  the  Beadle  was  only  laugh- 
able. He  could  be  really  witty  in  the  use  of  repartee, 
when  he  had  a good  chance.  Moreover,  he  saw  his 
chance  in  an  instant.  On  the  occasion  of  some  public 
gathering  at  which  it  was  announced  that  he  would 
speak,  speak  he  did,  and  in  his  usual  effective  style. 
The  auditory  having  listened  with  delight,  were  on  their 
legs,  to  a man, — and  on  the  move,  the  instant  he  ceased. 
An  episcopal  bore,  who  had  intended  to  follow  the  Bishop 
with  an  oration,  greatly  discomfited  at  finding  himself 
denied  the  gratification  he  had  promised  himself,  turned 
to  Wilberforce, — “They  don’t  seem  to  be  aware  that  I 
was  going  to  address  them.”  ...  “Not  aware,  my  dear 
brother  % Do  you  not  see  that  they  are  all  putting  on  their 
great  coats  to  go  away  ? ” 

He  abounded  in  odd  riddles  and  playful  jests.  One  sees 


1869]  The  Remodeller  of  the  Episcopate.  65 


him  at  his  own  table  turning  sharp  round  to  the  late 
excellent  Archdeacon  of  Oxford, — “ My  dear  Gierke,  tell 
me  why  an  Archdeacon’s  apron  is  like  unwholesome 
food  h ” The  dear  old  man  replied,  thoughtfully,  that 
he  did  not  know.  “ Because  it  goes  agamst  Ms  stomach!' 
Gierke  remarked,  gravely,  that  he  might  as  well  have 
said  a Bishops  apron.  “Nothing  of  the  sort,  my  dear 
Gierke.  0 dear  no!  nothing  of  the  sort!” — A lady 
asked  him  whom  he  considered  the  two  best  preachers  in 
England.  “ Something  which  holds  your  dress  together,” 
was  the  ready  answer.  (Of  course,  he  meant  hook-and- 
eye.Y — Another  asked  him,  with  a look  of  concern,  if 
the  report  which  she  had  heard  were  true,  namely, 
that  he  had  cancer  in  his  mouth?  ‘Yes,  to  be  sure,’ 
he  replied,  ^when  Tm  eating  crab! — But  enough  of  this. 


Nay,  I will  not  pass  on  to  something  different  until 
I have  illustrated  how  whimsically  Wilberforce  was 
capable  of  blending  the  pathetic  and  the  playful.  After 
his  appointment  to  the  see  of  Winchester,  he  and  I met  in 
Oxford.  I think  it  was  from  some  dinner-party  that  we 
were  walking  back  together, — for  I remember  accompany- 
ing him,  almost  in  silence,  to  the  lodgings  of  the  Warden 
of  All  Souls,  (Dr.  Leighton,  with  whom  he  was  staying,) 


* I suffer  this  story  to  stand  as  I 
received  it  in  conversation  : but  the 
following  letter, — sent  me  by  the 
Rev.  W.  F.  Erskine  Knollys,  (‘  Wro- 
tham,  Jan.  19,  1880’), — illustrates 
instructively  the  amount  of  credence 
due  to  similar  stories,  current  in 
society  : — 

“ A clergyman,  (Mr.  Lewis  of 
Kemsing),  was  last  night  in  this 
house,  and  related  to  me  the  follow- 
ing anecdote  Hoolc-and-If 

As  a young  curate,  he  had  been 
VOL.  II. 


deputed  to  attend  to  the  Bishop’s 
vestments,  previous  to  a Consecra- 
tion. ‘ Will  you  kindly  see  that 
my  doctor’s  hood  is  right  behind  ? 
You  will  find  a hook  and  an  eye  by 
which  to  fasten  the  sides  together.’ 
. . . ‘ A HooJc-and-I,  my  Lord  ? ’ 
. . . ‘ Ah  ! I see  what  you  mean ; 
but  I never  gave  that  answer,  for 
the  simple  reason  that  I was  never 
asked  the  question.  Had  I been 
asked,  I should  have  probably  re- 
plied Liddon  and  Woodford.^  ” 


F 


66  Samuel  Wilberforce  : [1869 

and  preparing  there  (viz.  at  the  little  side-door)  and  then, 
in  the  dark,  to  take  leave  of  him: — “Well,  now  good 
night, — and  good-bye.”  . . . He  caught  hold  of  my  two 
arms,  and  held  me  fast : — “ Say  ‘ God  bless  you 
(I  knew  very  well  what  this  meant.  All  his  friends 
regretted,  as  much  for  his  sake  as  for  their  own,  the 
step  he  was  taking ; and  he  interpreted  my  silence 
rightly, — namely,  as  resulting  from  my  having  nothing 
pleasant  to  say.)  “ Surely,”  (I  exclaimed)  “ ‘ the  less  is 
blessed  of  the  better.’  ” For  all  reply,  he  caught  me  by 
my  elbows,  and  pinned  me  up  against  the  wall  {^dis- 
placed ’ a herald  would  call  it)  so  that  I could  not  stir : — 
“Now,  you  shall  say  ‘God  bless  you!’”  There  was 
nothing  to  be  done  but  to  obey.  He  thanked  me : 
embraced  me  with  a sigh ; and  so  we  parted, — in  the 
dark.  ...  Our  pathways  in  life, — which  had  hitherto  so 
often  crossed  each  other,  and  always  so  pleasantly, — 
he  felt  (and  I felt,)  were  henceforth  to  be  divergent. 


I had  always  been  loyal  to  him,  and  he  knew  it : 
sticking  to  him,  and  helping  him  through,  even  when  he 
was  not  by  any  means  altogether  in  the  right.  From  a 
letter  of  his  which  lies  before  me,  I venture  to  extract 
the  opening  sentences  : — 

“I  thank  you  heartily  for  your  wonted  kindness  in 
this  matter.  Oh,  this  world  would  be  too  happy  if 
all  men  had  warm  hearts  like  you  1 There  is  such  joy  in 
true  sympathy  and  hearty  confidence.  I have  no  doubt 
that  the  sharp  frosts  of  suspicion  and  detraction  are 
specially  useful  to  those  who,  like  me,  naturally  crave 
for  sympathy  and  shoot  out  too  readily  the  tendrils  of 
affection  ; but  certainly  the  process  of  being  frost-nipped, 
though  useful,  is  painful  enough  to  the  shoot-bearer  ; and 
often  makes  me  long,  if  my  boys  were  launched,  to  lie 
down  and  die.  But  may  God  bless  you  for  your  love  ! ” 


1867]  The  Remodeller  of  the  Episcopate.  67 

I transcribe  those  words  because  they  present  such  a 
liviug  notion  of  the  man.  No  one  ever  yearned  for 
affection  more  than  Wilberforce:  neither  did  any  ever 
extend  more  freely  to  others  the  confidence  which  he 
claimed  at  the  hands  of  others.  Let  me  add  that  there 
existed  between  him  and  myself  a rare  amount  of  real 
sympathy  in  matters  of  religious  thought  and  opinion. 
I am  told  that  among  his  papers  was  found  a written 
memorandum  of  his  own,  to  the  same  effect. — I cannot 
recall  without  a smile  the  letter — (on  which  however 
I am  unable  at  this  instant  to  lay  my  hand) — in  which 
he  responded  to  the  request  I was  forced  to  make  to  him 
in  1867,  that  he  would  furnish  me  with  a written  “ testi- 
monial ” as  to  my  fitness  to  teach  Divinity.  He  replied 
that  he  ‘ should  about  as  soon  have  thought  of  asking  me 
to  send  him  a testimonial.’ 

Those  who  knew  him  most  intimately  will,  I suspect, 
concur  in  the  opinion  that  he  was  never  happier,  never 
seen  to  more  advantage,  than  in  his  own  house.  There 
never  breathed  a man  in  whom  the  domestic  charities 
burned  more  brightly.  “My  happiest  time,”  (he  often 
told  me,)  “was  when  I was  rector  of  Brighstone,  with 
my  dear  wife  and  my  children  all  about  me.”  . . . How 
faithfully  he  cherished  her  memory  we  have  already 
seen,  and  his  friends  were  many  a time  reminded, — but 
never  more  afiectingly  than  when,  at  his  funeral,  we 
noticed  the  wreath  of  lilies  which  his  own  hand,  only  a 
few  weeks  before,  had  hung  over  the  cross  which  marks 
her  grave. — “ I must  be  off  now,”  he  once  exclaimed — 
(the  meeting  over  which  he  had  been  presiding  was 
virtually  at  an  end,  and  the  winter-day  was  advancing) ; 
— “ I promised  to  give  the  boys  a skating  lesson  on  the 
pond.” — Once,  when  the  palace  was  full  of  Clergy,  he 


68  Samuel  Wilberforce  : [1865 

was  missed  from  the  little  conclave  in  the  library, — to 
be  encountered  by  the  present  writer  rushing  upstairs 
with  his  infant  grandchild  in  his  arms.  To  speak  plainly, 
he  was  busy — hiiggmg  the  hahj. 

Next  to  the  society  of  the  home-circle,  he  was  happiest 
when,  with  his  “ body-guard  ” around  him,  (for  so  he 
called  the  little  staff  of  men  on  whom  he  chiefly  de- 
pended for  sympathy  and  help,)  he  strolled  forth  for 
a ramble, — suppose  after  an  Ordination  of  Clergy.  He 
was  never  more  interesting  than  at  such  moments. 
More  even  at  Lavington  than  at  Cuddesdon  was  he  fond 
of  thus  sallying  out  for  his  evening  walk,  with  a few 
congenial  spirits  round  him,  before  whom  he  could  speak 
freely.  But  it  was  on  the  charms  of  the  pleasant  land- 
scape which  surrounded  his  Sussex  home  that  he  chiefly 
expatiated  on  such  occasions,  leaning  rather  heavily  on 
some  trusty  arm — (I  remember  how  he  leaned  on  mine  \) 
— while  he  tapped  with  his  stick  the  bole  of  every 
favourite  tree  which  came  in  his  way,  (by-the-by,  every 
tree  seemed  a favourite),  and  had  something  to  tell  of 
its  history  and  surpassing  merits.  Every  farm-house, 
every  peep  at  the  distant  landscape,  every  turn  in  the 
road,  suggested  some  pleasant  remark  or  playful  anec- 
dote. He  had  a word  for  every  man,  woman,  and  child 
he  met, — for  he  knew  them  all.  The  very  cattle  were 
greeted  as  old  acquaintances.  And  how  he  did  delight  in 
discussing  the  flora  of  the  neighbourhood,  the  geological 
formations,  every  aspect  of  the  natural  history  of  the 
place  ! Such  matters  were  evidently  a favourite  refresh- 
ment of  his  spirit.  His  first  and  his  last  contributions 
to  the  ‘ Quarterly  Review  ’ were  on  Knox’s  ‘ 'Ornitho- 
logical 'Rambles  in  Sussex,’  and  on  his  ‘ Autumns  on  the  Speyh 
The  article  on  Darwin’s  ^Origin  of  Species’  (i860),  was 


1873]  The  Remodeller  of  the  Episcopate.  69 

also  from  his  pen.  Affecting  it  is  to  remember  that  it 
was  while  he  was  in  the  very  act  of  praising  the 
loveliness  of  the  landscape,  he  met  with  the  accident 
which  terminated  his  life  on  the  Surrey  Downs,  on 
Saturday  afternoon,  19th  of  July,  1873.  passed  out 
of  this  world  of  shadows  into  that  region  of  reality 
without  warning,  and  in  a moment  of  time  ; a painless 
and  a sudden,  yet  not,  as  we  believe,  an  unprepared- 
for,  death. 

The  intelligence  was  flashed  next  day  all  over  England, 
awakening  a pang  of  genuine  sorrow  in  many  a parson- 
age, and  causing  thousands  to  go  about  their  Sunday 
work  with  a heavy  heart.  The  lesson  for  the  afternoon 
was  the  narrative  of  how  Absalom  obtained  for  his  only 
monument  a cairn  of  stones  in  the  wild  wood.^  In  the 
way  of  contrast,  it  seemed  impossible  not  to  call  to 
remembrance  what  a glorious  monument  this  great 
Prelate, — first  of  Oxford,  then  of  Winchester, — had 
erected  for  himself  by  the  labours  of  a life  consecrated 
to  God’s  service ; a life  which  had  been  brought  so  sud- 
denly to  a close.  And  how  incredible  at  first  did  it  seem 
that  so  experienced  a rider  should  have  indeed  met  with 
his  death  by  that  most  improbable  of  causes — the 
stumbling  of  his  horse ! His  reputation  for  horseman- 
ship was  a by -word,  especially  in  the  diocese  of  Oxford.'" 


^ 2 Samuel  xviii.  17,  18. 

® The  Eev.  H.  Raymond  Smythies 
writes, — “ I note  an  error  into  which 
you  (like  many  others)  have  fallen, 
as  to  the  Bishop’s  skill  in  horseman- 
ship. So  indifferent  a horseman  was 
seldom  seen, — a worse  one,  scarcely 
ever.  His  reputation  resulted, 
partly  from  his  great  delight  in 
horse-exercise ; partly,  from  the 


dangerous  pace  at  which  he  habitu- 
ally rode.  Some  years  since,  being 
much  in  the  Park,  I often  saw  him 
on  horseback,  and  remarked  to 
those  with  me,  that  if  his  horse 
ever  stumbled  badly,  he  must  in- 
evitably pitch  over  its  head  and 
break  his  neck.  He  had  no  seat  on 
the  saddle,  or  grip  of  leg  upon  its 
flaps ; but  rode  entirely  upon  the 


70  Samuel  Wilberforce.  [1873 

A large  concourse  of  his  friends  followed  him  to  his 
last  resting-place ; which  was  not  to  be  (as  we  had  all 
hoped  and  expected)  beside  his  illustrious  father  in 
Westminster  Abbey,  but  in  the  same  village  churchyard 
and  on  the  same  breezy  slope  where,  two-and-thirty 
years  before,  he  had  deposited  the  loved  remains  of  his 
wife."^  Such  a humble  grave,  excavated  in  the  chalk, 
and  nightly  drenched  with  the  dew  of  heaven,  would  (it 
was  thought  by  his  sons)  have  been  more  acceptable  to 

his  spirit  than  any  other Verily,  as  the  years  roll  out 

that  spot  will  attract  many  a pilgrim-foot:  but  the  Church, 
no  less  than  the  world,  is  prone  to  forget  its  greatest 
benefactors ; and  few  will  care  to  remember,  when  a few 
decades  of  years  shall  have  run  their  course,  how  largely 
our  Church  of  England  is  indebted  to  him  who  sleeps 
below.  None  but  those  who  knew  him  will  have  the 
faintest  conception  what  an  exquisite  orator,  what  a 
persuasive  preacher,  what  a faithful  Bishop, — in  every 
private  relation  of  life  what  a truly  delightful  person, — 
is  commemorated  by  the  stone  which  marks  the  grave  of 
Samuel  Wilberforce. 

pummel,  with  his  full  weight  on  his  occur  sooner." 

horse’s  shoulders.  My  only  marvel  See  above, — pages  8-io  : also, 

is  that  the  inevitable  result  did  not  P-  67 


(VI).  RICHARD  LYNCH  COTTON ; 

THE  HUMBLE  CHRISTIAN. 

[A.  D.  1794—1880.] 

ONE  of  the  oldest  of  the  surviving  Heads  of  Houses 
disappeared  from  the  familiar  scene  when,  on  the 
8th  of  December  1880,  the  revered  Provost  of  Worcester 
College  departed, — “ full  of  days,”  being  already  in  his 
eighty -seventh  year. 

Richakd  Lynch  Cotton  was  born  on  the  14th  of 
August,  1794,  at  Walliscote  in  Oxfordshire,  being  de- 
scended from  a very  ancient  family  settled  in  Shropshire 
(it  is  said)  from  Saxon  times.  He  was  the  third  son  of 
Henry  Calveley  Cotton,  esq.,  (youngest  son  of  Sir  Lynch 
Salusbury  Cotton,  fourth  Baronet,)  and  Matilda,  daughter 
and  heiress  of  John  Lockwood,  esq.  of  Dews  Hall,  Essex. 
He  therefore  stood  in  the  relation  of  first  cousin  to  Sir 
Stapleton  Cotton  who  was  created  Baron  Combermere  in 
1814, — Viscount,  in  1827.  His  mother  bore  to  her 
husband  fourteen  children : — three  daughters  and  eleven 
sons,  of  whom  three  entered  holy  orders,  and  six  attained 
high  rank  in  the  army  and  navy, — viz..  General  Sir 
Sydney  Cotton,  G.C.B.,  Colonel  Hugh  Calveley  Cotton, 
E.I.C.S.,  General  Sir  Arthur  Cotton,  K.C.S.I.,  Major- 
General  Sir  Frederick  Cotton,  and  Admiral  Francis 
Vere  Cotton.  The  three  last  named  survived  the  sub- 


72  Richard  Lynch  Cotton:  [1812 

ject  of  the  present  memoir.  When  questioned  concerning 
his  elder  brother  Richard’s  early  life,  Sir  Arthur  said  he 
could  only  remember  that, — “He  feared  God  from  his 
boyhood:”  and  that, — “As  a youth  he  walked  with 
God  ; ” adding, — “ I have  never  seen  his  like  in  this 
respect.” 

Sent  at  a very  early  age  to  the  Charterhouse, — (where 
he  had  Havelock  for  a schoolfellow.) — Richard  complained 
to  his  brothers  that  he  was  “ literally  starved.”  His 
growth  was  believed  to  have  been  affected  by  this 
barbarous  circumstance,  for  (unlike  the  rest  of  the 
family)  he  was  to  the  end  of  his  days,  small  of  stature. 
The  future  Provost  came  up  to  Worcester  College  as 
Lady  Holford  Exhibitioner  (June  4,  1812) ; was  elected 
Scholar  on  Clarke’s  Foundation  (May  8,  1815):  and  in 
the  same  year  took  his  B.A.  degree.  He  was  reading 
with  Thomas  Arnold  (his  private  tutor),  when  news  was 
brought  to  the  latter  (Easter,  1815)  that  he  had  been 
elected  to  a fellowship  at  Oriel. 

Cotton’s  name  appears  among  those  who  obtained 
a second  class  in  Classics,  2nd  April  181 5, — in  company 
with  John  Leycester  Adolphus,  the  barrister;  Samuel 
Hinds  (afterwards  Bishop  of  Norwich) ; and  Philip 
Wynter,  late  President  of  St.  John’s.  In  the  next  year 
(May  7, 1816)  he  was  elected  Fellow  of  his  college : — filled 
the  offices  of  Tutor,  Dean,  and  Bursar : — and  was  insti- 
tuted to  the  small  vicarage  of  Denchworth,  December 
9th,  1823; — only  resigning  his  cure  when  (in  the  last 
week  of  January,  1839)  he  was  appointed  to  the  Pro- 
vostship  of  the  college  by  the  Duke  of  Wellington,  then 
Chancellor  of  the  University.^  His  predecessor  in  ofiice 

^ His  successor  at  Denchworth,  until  Dec.  26th,  1839, — being  fol- 
Kev.  E.  Horton,  was  not  instituted  lowed  in  turn,  in  1869,  by  the  Eev. 


1823]  The  Humble  Christian.  73 

[1796-1839]  was  Dr.  Whittington  Landon, — fourth  head 
of  the  society  under  the  new  foundation. 

A small  country  cure  of  souls  within  two  hours’  drive 
of  Oxford  is  not  by  any  means  incompatible  with  the 
work  of  a college  Tutor  who  is  careful  to  leave  the 
parish  in  charge  of  a competent  Curate ; — who  is  pre- 
pared to  give  it  as  much  of  the  week  as  he  is  able ; — who 
will  reside  there  throughout  his  Vacations ; — above  all, 
who  sincerely  loves  the  place  and  its  people.  All  these 
conditions  of  incumbency  Cotton  loyally  fulfilled.  He 
delighted  in  taking  one  or  more  of  his  pupils  over  to 
Denchworth  with  him  to  pass  the  interval  between 
Saturday  and  Monday,  and  heartily  rejoiced  in  the 
exchange  of  College  routine  for  the  duties  of  Pastoral  life, 
— to  which  at  the  close  of  the  term  he  was  able  to  devote 
himself  unreservedly. 

Eichard  Lynch  Cotton’s  institution  to  Denchworth 
(Dec.  9)  very  nearly  synchronized  with  the  death  of  his 
younger  brother.  Lieutenant  Eowland  Edward,  who  died 
in  Jamaica  7th  Dec.  1823.  In  the  following  year,  at 
Combermere  Abbey,  (20th  June,  1824),  died  another 
younger  brother,  Eobert  Salusbury,  of  the  Eoyal  Artil- 
lery. These  two,  he  is  found  to  have  affectionately 
commemorated  on  a mural  tablet  in  Denchworth  Church. 
I am  sure  I shall  have  my  reader  with  me  when  I add 
that  his  memorial  verses  (here  subjoined)  show  a degree 
of  skill  rarely  met  with  in  such  compositions.  But  it  is 
for  their  pathos  that  I transcribe  them  : — 

Lamented  youths  ! although  the  lonely  grave 

Of  one  be  found  across  th’  Atlantic  wave, 

C.  H.  Tomlinson,  who  became  debted  for  many  details  concerning 
Rector  of  Hoggeston,  near  Winslow,  Dr.  Cotton’s  pastoral  labours, 
in  1886.  To  this  gentleman  I am  in- 


74  Richard  Lynch  Cotton:  [1825 

While  in  his  fathers’  home  the  other  sleeps, — 

Lo,  here  for  both  alike  fond  Memory  weeps  : 

Weeps,  yet  rejoices  that  o’er  sin  and  death 

The  Christian’s  triumph  crowns  their  lowly  faith.” 

On  Denchworth  and  its  neighbourhood,  the  author  of 
the  foregoing  lines  certainly  left  his  mark  indelibly. 
Bishop  Wilberforce,  in  the  dedicatory  letter  prefixed  to 
his  Sermon  on  behalf  of  the  Church  at  Headington 
Quarry  (1847),  ventured  to  say  that  for  the  supply  of 
the  spiritual  wants  of  outlying  hamlets  surrounding 
Denchworth,  “ many  generations  would  call  [Dr.  Cotton] 
blessed.”  He  succeeded  the  Kev.  John  Harward,  who 
had  become  Vicar  in  1796,  but  who  was  non-resident, 
being  also  incumbent  of  Fladbury.  Cotton’s  first  achieve- 
ment was  to  induce  this  gentleman  to  resign,  in  order  to 
secure  an  efiicient  Ministry  for  Denchworth, — the  only 
Services  there,  since  1808,  having  been  performed  by 
the  Master  of  the  Abingdon  Grammar-school,  who 
farmed  ” several  of  the  Churches  thereabouts.  Once 
Vicar  of  Denchworth,  Mr.  Cotton  proceeded  to  build 
a Vicarage  house,  and  to  augment  the  living  by  the 
addition  of  land.  He  also,  at  his  own  expense,  built  the 
Schools.  Until  that  time,  his  ministrations  were  con- 
ducted under  serious  disadvantages.  He  had  to  ride 
out  and  in  ; and  those  rides  of  his  were  not  always 
unattended  with  risk.  Returning  from  Denchworth  on 
one  occasion, — (the  night  was  excessively  dark  and  the 
floods  were  out  to  an  alarming  extent,) — Cotton  fairly 
lost  his  way,  and  at  last,  despairing  of  getting  back  to 
Oxford,  took  refuge  in  a farm-house,  where  he  obtained  a 
night’s  shelter.  His  “ dearly  beloved  brethren  ” in  the 
meantime,  had  given  him  up  for  lost.  Next  morning, 
the  first  object  he  encountered  was  the  anxious  face  of 
the  parish-clerk  of  Denchworth.  “ Why,  Thomas  ! what 


1839]  The  Humble  Christian.  75 

brings  you  here  ? ” “I  am  come,  sii',”  (was  the  innocent 
reply,)  “ to  look  for  the  loclyh’ 

In  connexion  with  those  early  days  at  Denchworth,  Dr. 
Cotton  was  fond  of  relating  how  ‘ Newman,  on  a certain 
occasion,  had  cured  him  of  the  face-ache.’  Being  at 
Denchworth,  and  in  torture,  he  once  received  the  perplex- 
ing intelligence  that  a visitor  stood  before  the  door  of 
his  modest  dwelling.  Impossible!  ...  It  proved  to  be 
John  Henry  Newman, — who  had  ridden  over  from 
Oxford  to  pay  his  friend  a visit.  The  unexpected  appa- 
rition gave  such  a shock  to  Cotton’s  nervous  system  that 
his  face-ache  literally  disappeared.  “ And  thafs  how 
Newman  cured  me  of  my  face-ache.” 

The  old  people  at  Denchworth  still  talk  of  “ Mr. 
Cotton  ” as  their  best  Vicar  : still  hold  his  name  in 
veneration.  Ever  since  he  resigned  the  Vicarage  in 
order  to  become  Provost  of  Worcester  (1839),  he  visited 
the  place  periodically,  and  every  winter  was  careful  to 
send  gifts  of  clothing,  etc.  to  the  poor  of  Denchworth 
and  Lyford.  (The  villages  are  about  a mile  and-a-half 
apart,  and  he  was  one  of  the  Trustees  of  the  Lyford  alms- 
houses,— which  brought  him  over  continually.)  He  was 
there  for  the  last  time  in  August  1880,  and  his  last  gifts 
arrived  only  a few  weeks  before  the  tidings  of  his  death. 

“ Whenever  he  came  over  to  see  me,”  (writes  the  Eev. 
C.  H.  Tomlinson),  “ he  would  always  go  and  offer  a 
silent  prayer  in  the  Church ; pause  to  read  thoughtfully 
over  the  inscription  he  had  himself  set  up  in  comme- 
moration of  his  two  soldier  brothers ; ^ and  then  go  into 
the  churchyard  to  the  grave  of  Thomas  Tuck, — parish 
clerk  from  June  1823  to  December  1843  ; and  tell  me  of 
him  as  the  best  and  ‘ most  guileless  of  men.’ — The  only 


^ See  above,  p.  73-4. 


76  Richard  Lynch  Cotton:  [1849 

dissenters  in  the  parish  were  a family  named  ‘Church.’ 
The  old  man,  (who  died  aged  96,)  used  to  tell  me  that 
Mr.  Cotton  converted  him  by  always  asking  him  (iraiCcov 
aixa  (T7Tovbd((jov), — How  he  could  possibly  attend  Chapel 
when  his  name  was  ‘ Church  ’ ? The  old  man  in  my  time 
came  to  Church  regularly.” 

To  Cotton’s  pious  zeal  is  due  the  separation  of  Grove 
Norton,  (a  large  hamlet  of  560  souls  in  the  parish  of 
Wantage),  and  getting  it  formed  into  a parish  of  itself. 
He  further  procured  that  a house  and  Church  (it  was 
done  at  his  own  expense)  should  be  built,  and  placed 
Mr.  Bricknell  there  as  Vicar.  He  also,  out  of  his  ‘ abound- 
ing charity,’  (as  Bishop  Wilberforce  expressed  it,)  got  a 
house  built  at  Lyford,  and  put  a resident  clergyman 
there, — the  hamlet  being  separated  from  Hanney,  and 
the  advowson  given  to  the  College,  by  (I  believe)  the 
Puseys.  Never  before — and  assuredly  never  since — has 
Denchworth  enjoyed  so  good  a Vicar. 

Hr.  Cotton  is  also  said  to  have  promoted  the  building 
and  endowment  of  Churches  at  Shippen  and  Dry  Sand- 
ford,  near  Abingdon.  He  certainly  was  mainly  instru- 
mental in  procuring  the  erection  of  Headingtcui  Quarry 
Church,  near  Oxford.  It  was  in  furtherance  of  this 
object  that  he  published  by  subscription,  in  1849,  'Lec- 
tures on  the  Roly  Sacrament  of  the  Lord's  Supper!  His  only 
other  work  of  importance  had  appeared  in  1837,  two 
years  before  he  became  Provost  of  Worcester — viz.  ‘ The 
Way  of  Salvation  ydainly  and  practically  traced  in  a Series 
of  Discourses!  He  is  styled  on  the  title-page,  “ Vicar  of 
Denchworth,  Fellow  of  Worcester  College,  and  Domestic 
Chaplain  to  the  Earl  of  St.  Germans.”  To  the  last-named 
office  he  was  appointed  in  1824.  One  of  the  Sermons  in 
this  volume,  on  “ Joseph  a Typje^'  was  long  since  pointed 


1850]  The  Humble  Christian,  77 

out  to  me  by  the  late  Kev.  George  Fuller  Thomas,  some- 
time Tutor  of  Worcester,  (himself  a very  thoughtful  and 
judicious  Divine),  as  an  excellent  composition. 

From  the  profits  of  this  volume  of  Sermons  the  author 
again  gave  <^ioo  to  a similar  object:  viz.  the  small 
Church  which  Charles  Page  Eden  (of  whom  a Memoir 
will  be  found  towards  the  close  of  the  present  volume) 
had  been  mainly  instrumental  in  erecting  at  Little  worth, 
— a neglected  hamlet  of  Faringdon  in  Berkshire.  The 
Consecration  Sermon  was  preached  by  Dr.  Cotton,  29th 
May,  1839, — in  which  year  he  was  appointed  to  the 
Provostship,  and  bade  a long  adieu  to  the  pastoral  life. 
The  next  time  he  baptized  an  infant  was  in  Worcester 
College  Chapel,  three  weeks  before  his  death  in  1880. 

Four  single  sermons  complete  the  enumeration  of  Dr. 
Cotton’s  writings.  The  first  (‘  Scriptural  View  of  the 
LobTs  Siqjper,  its  Importance  and  Efficacy C bears  date 
1837.  The  other  three  were  occasioned  by  the  decease 
of  undergraduate  members  of  the  college, — Mr.  John 
Pierce  in  1857  ; William  Welch  Barrows  and  John  Hay- 
wood Southby,  esquires,  in  1861. 

Such  lives  as  the  present  are,  of  necessity,  without 
stirring  incidents  of  a personal  kind : and  when  we  are 
assured  that  from  1815  to  1880, — from  the  time,  namely 
of  obtaining  his  Fellowship  (the  year  of  Waterloo)  to  the 
year  of  his  death, — Kichard  Cotton  resided  continuously 
in  Worcester  College, — in  fact,  never  missed  a term, — we 
are  apt  to  transfer  the  image  of  fixedness  from  the  man 
to  his  times : are  prone  to  speak  of  the  life  as  “ unevent- 
ful: ” are  prone  to  forget  the  many  and  the  mighty 
revolutions, — intellectual,  social,  political, — which  have 
made  such  a span  of  years  full  of  disquiet  to  all  alike 
who  have  had  any  considerable  share  in  them ; while,  to 


78  Richard  Lynch  Cotton:  [i860 

one  who  has  lived  through  them  all,  it  is  reasonable 
to  suspect  that  a secret  desire  to  depart  in  peace  must, 
in  the  end,  be  even  the  prevailing  sentiment  of  the  soul. 
The  Provost  of  Worcester  lived  just  long  enough  to  wit- 
ness the  destructive  intentions  of  a second  Universities’ 
Commission.  A regular  attendant  at  the  University 
sermon,  he  was  at  S.  Mary’s  for  the  last  time  on  the 
morning  of  November  21st — (the  Sunday  next  before 
Advent),  when  the  Dean  of  Chichester  denounced  the 
work  of  the  Commission  from  the  University  pulpit,  in  a 
sermon  which  has  since  been  published.^ 

Those  who  knew  him  most  intimately,  concur  in 
witnessing  to  the  meekness  and  gentleness  with  which 
Dr.  Cotton  encountered  those  recent  Academical  changes 
which  yet  were  most  abhorrent  to  his  disposition,  and 
offended  every  instinct  of  his  nature.  Humility  was, 
perhaps,  his  characteristic  personal  grace.  But  it  was 
the  humility  which  results  from  the  habitual  realisation 
of  God’s  presence.  “ His  mind  ” (remarks  one  who  was 
always  with  him)  was  always  engaged  in  prayer.” 

Few  persons  probably  ever  more  literally  fulfilled  the 
Apostolic  precept  to  “ pray  without  ceasing.”  He  was 
never  known  to  open  a letter  without  pausing  to  pray 
silently  first.  As  each  fresh  undergraduate  entered  the 
hall  at  the  terminal  examination  called  “ Collections,” 
the  Provost  was  observed  to  be  silently  offering  up  a 
special  prayer  for  that  individual.  “ I remember”  (writes 
one  of  the  society) “ in  the  only  railway  journey  I ever 
made  with  him,  being  much  impressed  by  his  standing 
up  in  the  carriage,  and  offering  silent  prayer  before  we 

^ ‘ The  Disestdblishmpnt  of  Reli-  the  University/ — Nov.  21, 1880,  2nd 
gion  in  Oxford,  the  betrayal  of  a Edition,  pp.  56. 
sacred  trust : — words  of  warning  to  * The  Rev.  Robert  B.  Wright. 


i86o]  The  Humble  Christian.  79 

started.  This  was  in  1856.”  His  servant  remarked  to 
one  of  the  family  that  he  had  discovered  the  necessity 
of  giving  some  intimation  of  his  presence  before  opening 
the  door  of  his  master’s  library:  so  constantly  did  he 
find  the  Provost  on  his  knees. 

On  one  of  his  visits  to  Denchworth,  the  Vicar  persuaded 
him  to  stop  the  night  and  preach  for  him  next  day : — 

“It  was  on  the  same  night,  I remember  as  if  it  were 
yesterday,  how,  when  he  had  retired  to  his  room, — the 
partition  being  extremely  thin, — I could  not  help  over- 
hearing portions  of  his  earnest  prayers  for  myself,  my 
people,  &c.  I think  he  always  prayed  aloud.  It  was 
really  a blessing  to  know  such  a man.  I never  expect 
to  meet  such  another  in  this  world.” 

I will  but  add  for  myself  that  the  Provost  of  Worcester, 
more  than  any  person  I ever  knew  or  read  of,  seemed  to 
me  to  illustrate  by  his  own  habitual  practice  that  an- 
nouncement of  the  author  of  the  cixth  Psalm, — “ But 
I give  myself  unto  prayer.”  In  the  original  Hebrew 
it  is  only  this, — “But  I — jpraijeT'  \ as  if  the  Saint  had 
said, — “But  as  for  me, — I will  he  all  prayer!' 

He  made  a practice  of  reading  the  Bible  completely 
through  once  every  year:  and  would  insist  on  the 
importance  of  never  skipping  a chapter  (in  Leviticus,  for 
example) ; assigning  as  a reason,  that  there  is  always 
something  in  every  chapter  which  no  one  can  afford  to 
let  go  unread.  * His  favourite  author  was  Leighton, — of 
whom  he  remarked  to  his  daughter — “He  is  all  Chkist, 
Christ,  Christ  ! ” A little  collection  of  extracts  from 
the  writings  of  the  holy  Bishop  of  Dunblane  and  Arch- 
bishop of  Glasgow,  ^ lent  him  by  his  friend  the  Bev.  C. 

® ‘Spiritual  Truths  extracted  Leighton!  by  the  Rev.  W.  Wilson, 
from  the  Writings  of  Archhishop  D.D.  London,  1852. 


8o  Richard  Lynch  Cotton:  [i860 

P.  Golightly  (who  ministered  tenderly  to  the  Provost 
during  the  last  few  days  of  his  life),  was  the  last  hook 
in  his  hands.  He  had  reached  page  48,  and  there  had 
left  a marker.  That  page  is  headed  “Resurrection  to 
Life.” 

Guilelessness  is  sure  to  be  a prominent  feature  of  such 
a temperament  as  that  before  us.  Hr.  Cotton  believed 
everybody  who  came  to  him  with  a tale.  He  was 
simply  incorrigible.  The  beggars  outside  the  doors  of 
Continental  churches, — (for  he  delighted,  but  I believe 
chiefly  for  his  daughter’s  sake,  in  foreign  travel), — preyed 
upon  him  to  an  alarming  extent.  His  companion 
watched  him  and  endeavoured  to  protect  him,  but  in 
vain.  Cotton  would  contrive  to  get  her  safe  inside  the 
heavy  mattress-like  hanging  before  the  door,  and  then 
submitted  himself  to  be  fleeced. 

It  should  have  been  earlier  mentioned  that,  on  be- 
coming Provost  of  Worcester,  he  married®  Charlotte 
Bouverie,  daughter  of  the  Hon.  Philip  Bouverie  (who 
assumed  the  name  of  Pusey,)  and  Lady  Lucy  his  wife. 
Mrs.  Cotton  was  therefore  sister  of  Dr.  Pusey,  of  Christ 
Church.  She  survived  her  husband  three  years, — dying 
2nd  July  1883,  aged  76.  An  only  daughter, — Amelia 
Lucy,  on  whom  he  simply  doted, — was  the  sole  fruit  of 
their  union.  He  always  called  her  ‘ Amy.’  To  him, 
there  was  evidently  music  in  the  name.  It  was  for  ever 
on  his  lips.  After  the  Worcester  ‘gaudy,’  his  post- 
prandial speech  invariably  contained  some  affectionate 
mention  of  his  daughter. 

In  ‘ Amy’s  ’ company,  the  Provost  visited  many  parts 
of  the  Continent.  “ He  once  spent  two  months  with  me 
at  my  place  in  Norway,” — (writes  the  Rev.  Rowland 

® At  S.  George’s,  Hanover  Square, — 27th  June,  1839. 


The  Humble  Christian. 


8i 


1870] 

Muckleston,  fellow  of  W orcester  College : — “ where,  though 
no  fisherman  himself,  he  enjoyed  watching  others  en- 
gaged in  the  sport.”  His  own  ‘ Amy  ’ especially  ; who 
could  hook  and  kill  a twenty-pound  salmon  as  well  as 
the  best  fisherman  of  the  country.” 

This  young  lady  joined  the  Church  of  Rome  in  1878. 
Those  who  knew  Dr.  Cotton  best,  were  best  aware  how 
serious  a grief  this  must  needs  prove  to  the  devoted 
Parent.  He  was  wounded  in  the  tenderest  part.  But — 
(as  she  told  me) — not  one  word  of  reproach  ever  escaped 
his  lips.  He  loved  his  “Amy”  with  undiminished 
tenderness  to  the  last : playfully  assuring  her  before  his 
death, — “I  always  keep  your  letters.”  It  is  believed 
that  the  evidence  her  act  afforded  of  spiritual  earnestness, 
— the  token  that  “ Amy  ” was  prepared  to  do  anything 
for  Chkist’s  sake, — made  the  blow  endurable  which 
must  else  have  crushed  him. 

I am  indebted  to  a friend  who  adorns  the  University 
of  Durham  ^ for  a few  memoranda  concerning  Dr.  Cotton 
which  will  be  perused  with  interest : — 

“First, — It  will  surprise  some  to  be  told  that  there 
was  a time  (say  between  1820  and  1830)  when  he  was 
considered,  along  with  Dr.  Ogilvie,  to  be  one  of  the  best 
preachers  at  S.  Mary’s,  among  the  residents.  This  is 
stated  on  the  authority  of  Dr.  Lightfoot,  the  venerable 
Hector  of  Exeter  College  ; who  said  that  he  has  known 
these  two  preachers  infiuence  the  audience  to  tears.  As 
Cotton  had  a bad  voice  and  a delivery  naturally  unat- 
tractive, such  an  effect  can  only  have  been  produced, 
(apart  from  the  attending  influences  of  the  Holy  Spieit, 
which  we  are  sure  he  would  earnestly  pray  for),  by  his 
deep  seriousness  and  by  his  evident  conviction  of  the 
} realities  about  which  he  was  preaching.  The  first  Uni- 
j versit}^  Sermon  I ever  heard,  was  from  him, — on  some 

■ ^ The  Rev.  A.  S.  Farrar,  D.D.,  Canon  of  Durham,  and  Professor  of  Divinity. 
VOL.  II.  G 


82 


Richard  Lynch  Cotton: 


[1870 


text  in  the  Psalms  on  the  ‘ peace  ’ which  attends  on  the 
holiness  implied  in  ‘ the  fear  of  the  Lord.’  It  was  a 
morning  Sermon  and  S.  Mary’s  was  full.  (In  those  days 
indeed  the  University  Sermons  were  well  attended,  no 
matter  who  preached.)  Though  the  discourse  was  not 
one  of  much  power,  I well  remember  the  solemn  atten- 
tion with  which  it  was  listened  to,  and  the  serious  and 
impressive  delivery  of  the  preacher. 

“ A second  circumstance  worth  noting  was  stated  to 
me  by  himself;  viz.  that  the  two  books  on  Divinity 
which  had  most  impressed  him,  were  Miller’s  Bampton 
Lectures  for  1817,  (on  ‘ The  adaptation  of  Holy  Scripture  to 
the  real  state  of  Human  Nature  ’) ; and  Dr.  Chalmers’ 
^Astronomical  Discourses!  He  frequently  alluded  to  these 
two  subjects,  embodying  certain  points  of  them  in  the 
sermons  which  he  preached  in  the  Chapel  of  his  College  ; 
and  he  urged  (though  unsuccessfully)  at  least  three  of  his 
friends  to  base  courses  of  Bampton  Lectures  on  them. 

“ A third  trait  is  of  a less  solemn  character.  Let  it  be 
thought  to  be  of  the  earth,  earthy.  It  nevertheless 
brings  out  the  man,  and  shows  the  strong  sense  of  duty 
which  marked  his  view  of  life.  A clergyman,  whose 
daughter,  (an  heiress,)  had  married  a naval  officer,  a 
distant  relation  of  Dr.  Cotton,  called  on  him  a few 
months  after  the  daughter’s  marriage.  Cotton  imme- 
diately asked  him  about  his  daughter.  The  clergyman 
looking  sad,  he  interrupted, — ‘ Surely,  she  is  not  ill  or 
dead?’  ‘No,’  replied  the  other,  ‘but  her  husband  is 
ordered  off  for  foreign  service.’  Cotton,  nearly  80  years 
of  age,  kindled  instantly, — half  indignation,  half  laugh- 
ter,— and  exclaimed,  ‘ What  in  the  world  would  you 
have  him  do,  except  go  on  service?  Would  you  wish 
him  to  be  a land-lubber,  kicking  his  heels  about  Ports- 
mouth or  Plymouth  ? ’ The  clergyman  himself  told  me 
the  anecdote,  adding, — ‘ It  was  a rebuke,  befitting  the 
nephew  of  Combermere.’  If  Cotton  had  been  a cavalry 
officer  instead  of  a Clergyman,  he  would  have  gained 
repute  in  the  army  for  dash  and  energy.  But  his  name 
would  (we  may  hope)  have  been  registered  also  in  that 
long  roll  of  godly  sold-iers  which  begins  with  Cornelius 


iSyo]  The  Humble  Christian.  83 

the  Centurion  and  (at  present)  ends  with  the  martyr  of 
Khartoum.” 


Another  friend, — for  many  years  Fellow  and  Tutor  of 
Worcester  Colleofe, — on  being  invited  to  sketch  the  Pro- 
vest’s  character,  writes  thus  interestingly  concerning 
him  : — 

“Not  to  dwell  on  the  prevailing  aspect  of  his  charac- 
ter, with  which  you  are  already  well  acquainted,  let  me 
remind  you  that, — most  holy  man  as  he  was, — there  was 
nothing  morose  or  sombre  about  the  Provost’s  serious- 
ness. He  had  much  wit  and  humour,  and  appreciated 
both  in  others.  Then,  in  his  early  days  he  was  noted  for 
being  a fearless  rider.  I have  heard  it  whispered  that, 
in  his  rides  from  Oxford  to  Denchworth,  he  did  not  b}^ 
any  means  always  stick  to  the  high  road,  but  occasion- 
ally went  ‘across  country.’  This  habit  obtained  for 
him  the  soubriquet  of  ‘ hard-riding  I)ick,' — the  name  of  a 
Border  rider  mentioned  in  Marmion,  playfully  transferred 
to  Cotton,  I believe  by  John  Miller  of  his  own  College. 
When  he  became  Provost,  although  as  Fellow  and  Tutor 
he  had  long  been  in  the  receipt  of  a good  income,  he 
possessed,  I believe,  nothing.  So  profuse  had  been 
his  liberality,  that  he  had  given  everything  away.”  ^ 

“ As  regards  myself  personally,”  (writes  another,  and 
more  recent,  Fellow  of  the  same  society,)  “I  may  mention 
that  the  Provost  was  quite  like  a Father  to  me.  He 
distinguished  me  above  the  other  Fellows  of  the  College 
at  a certain  period,  for  two  reasons  which  he  himself 
gave  me: — (i).  He  looked  upon  me  (whether  rightly  or 
wrongly  I may  not  say,)  as  a good  Churchman,  and 
appointed  me  Chaplain  and  Divinity  Lecturer;  and 
(2),  He  considered  me  a good  Conservative.  Also  (I 
think)  he  liked  me  because  it  had  so  happened  that  I 
was  the  last  Fellow  elected  under  the  old  §ystem^  (i.  e. 
remaining  a Scholar  until  a Fellowship  became  vacant 
for  me).  So  that,  when  I was  Fellow,  one  or  two  of  my 

® From  the  Rev.  Rowland  Muckleston,  Rector  of  Dinedor,  Hereford. 


84  Richard  Lynch  Cotton:  [1880 

seniors  being  radicals,  and  my  juniors  having  come  from 
other  Colleges,  and  not  being  ordained,  he  appointed  me 
Tutor  also, — although  I did  not  take  a high  class  in 
Classics,  my  forte  being  Mathematics  and  Science.  He 
however  told  me  plainly  that  he  appointed  me  Tutor  for 
the  express  purpose  of  having  one  who  would  take 
charge  of  a certain  number  of  the  men  and  try  to  be  a 
pattern  of  a ‘ Conservative  Churchman,’  and  likely  to  help 
them.  He  was  always  my  ideal  of  a Christian  gentleman  ; 
and  his  goodness  to  me,  as  to  others,  was  uniform.”  ^ 

Such  details  are  interesting  as  illustrative  of  the  man’s 
character ; and  for  that  reason  seem  to  have  a claim 
to  be  admitted  here.  . . . The  Provost’s  gentlemanly 
instincts  never  forsook  him.  An  Officer  of  the  Oxford 
Militia  (hoaxed  by  his  brother  Officers)  once  presented 
himself,  uninvited,  to  dinner.  The  Provost  gave  him  a 
hospitable  reception,  and  studiously  abstained  from  un- 
deceiving his  guest.  This  anecdote  does  not  stand  alone. 

Throughout  his  long  life.  Dr.  Cotton  had  enjoyed  a 
singular  measure  of  health  and  vigour.  He  remarked 
to  one  of  his  Fellows  (whom  he  visited  in  time  of  sick- 
ness) that  he  was  scarcely  conscious  of  having  ever 
suffered  pain,  and  had  never  been  ill  but  once.  His 
bodily  powers  did  not  forsake  him  to  the  last.  He  pre- 
sided at  the  annual  College  meeting  (St.  Andrew’s  Day, 
1880,)  and  sat  through  it;  entertaining  his  Fellows  at 
dinner  in  the  evening.  Next  day  (December  ist),  he 
assisted  at  the  College  audit.  On  the  Sunday  evening 
previous  (November  28),  he  had  preached  in  Worcester 
College  Chapel,  (according  to  his  own  invariable  practice), 
a sermon  preparatory  to  the  administration  of  the  Lord’s 
Supper  on  the  ensuing  Sunday; — an  administration  at 
which  (to  his  great  sorrow)  he  was  prevented  (for  the 

® From  tlie  Rev.  C.  H.  Tomlinson, — Hoggeston  Rectory,  Oct.  26,  1886. 


i88o]  The  Humble  Christian.  85 

second  time  in  his  life)  by  sickness,  from  being  present. 
The  day  before,  (Saturday  morning,  4th  December,)  on 
returning  from  the  College  Chapel,  he  complained  of 
faintness  ; — and  did  not  again  cross  the  threshold  of  his 
lodgings.  His  intimate  friend,  Eev.  C.  P.  Golightly,  was 
ministering  to  him  assiduously;  but. there  seemed  no 
immediate  reason  for  alarm. 

On  the  Wednesday  evening  (8th  December  1 880),  while 
at  dinner  with  his  wife  and  daughter,  he  was  observed 
suddenly  to  become  pale  and  silent.  Up  to  that  instant 
he  had  been  talking  cheerfully.  He  was  evidently  wholly 
unconscious  that  the  moment  for  his  departure  had 
arrived.  He  gasped  for  breath  once  or  twice, — glided 
from  his  chair, — sunk  upon  the  floor,  and  expired.  It  was 
found,  on  approaching  him,  that  life  was  already  extinct. 

Thus,  suddenly,  but  not  unpreparedly, — “full  of  days,” 
(for  he  had  already  seen  his  eighty-sixth  birthday),  and 
within  the  walls  where  he  had  resided  continuously  as 
Scholar,  Fellow,  Provost,  for  68  years, — departed  Eichard 
Lynch  Cotton,  D.D.  It  was  translation  rather  than 
“death:”  literally  was  it  a “ tarrijing  until”  his  Master 
“ camel'  . . . On  entering  the  College  Hall,  just  before  the 
Provost’s  funeral, — “A  very  good  man”  (remarked  Bonamy 
Price  with  emphasis  to  Canon  Bright  of  Christ  Church) 
“has  passed  away:  a true  Christian,  a man  of  prayer, 
who  lived  in  his  Bible.”  “ It  is  ” (replied  the  other)  “ a 
real  Euthanasia."  “ That  is  the  very  phrase  ” (rejoined 
Bonamy  Price)  “which  I was  going  to  apply  to  his 
death.”. . . On  the  very  day  of  his  departure,  his  physician 
had  urged  him  not  to  say  family  prayers.  No,  he  could 
not  give  up  that : he  should  not  sleep  if  he  did  not  say 
them.  “Well  then,  at  least  read  them  sitting.”  No,  he 
must  kneel : he  could  not  endure  to  sit  while  praying. 


86  Richard  Lynch  Cotton:  [1880 

And  those  evening  prayers  with  his  family  he  never 
lived  to  read — in  either  position.^ 

It  is  unfair  to  speak  of  Dr.  Cotton  as  one  of  a school ; 
to  class  him  with  the  (so  called)  “Evangelical”  section  of 
the  Clergy,  and  to  represent  him  as  a party  man.  He 
was  a good  Churchman, — faithful,  humble,  devout,  ear- 
nest. No  better  proof  of  his  large-heartedness  could  be 
appealed  to  than  his  generous  encouragement  of  the 
project  for  transforming  the  Chapel  of  Worcester  Col- 
lege, (which  in  my  time  [1842-6]  was  certainly  the  very 
coldest  and  correctest  of  classical  structures),  into  the 
most  gorgeous  and  ornate  specimen  of  its  class  in 
Oxford.  He  was  above  the  littleness  which  would  have 
marred  an  endeavour  on  the  part  of  the  Society,  which, 
at  all  events,  was  very  nobly  meant.  But  there  is  no 
denying  that  Cotton  viewed  the  ‘ Tractarian’  movement 
with  undisguised  alarm.  I cannot  recall  without  a smile 
the  beivildered  expression  of  his  face  when,  on  taking 
leave  of  the  society  at  the  Easter  of  1846,  I paid  him  a 
visit  of  respect  and  affection,  and  thanked  him  for  many 
acts  of  kindness : “ especially,  Mr.  Provost,  am  I grateful 
to  you  for  not  having  altered  the  dinner-hour  on  Sun- 
days, so  that  my  friends  and  I enjoyed  to  the  last  the 
benefit  of  hearing  Mr.  Newman’s  sermons  at  S.  Mary’s.” 
Nor  may  it  be  denied  that  Cotton  was  claimed  by  a party 
to  which  he  did  not  really  belong.  There  hung  in  his 
hall  a dreary  Missionary  Map  of  the  World.  Wilson  of 
C.  C.  C.,  taking  men  to  matriculate  [1855],  remarked, — 
“ Mr.  Vice-Chancellor,  I was  not  aware  that  coal  was  so 
widely  spread  over  the  world;  as  the  black  on  that  map 
shows.”  “No,  no,” — rejoined  the  Provost:  heathen 

^ From  Canon  Bright,  — who  fessorship  of  Ecclesiastical  History- 
adds  : — “ Dr.  Cotton  years  ago  im-  is  also  a Professorship  of  the  study 
pressed  on  me  the  fact  that  the  Pro-  of  the  ancient  Fathers^ 


i88o]  The  Hu3Ible  Chbistian,  87 

darkness — heathen  darkness!'  . . . This  is  the  true  version 
of  a story  which  (like  most  University  stories)  has  been 
grossly  travestied  in  the  repetition.  ^ 

Sincerely  attached  to  the  religion  of  his  fathers,  he 
zealously  promoted  the  erection  of  the  “ Martyrs’  Me- 
morial:” for,  least  of  all,  was  there  in  him  anything  of 
the  sectarian  spirit  which  displayed  itself  in  those  who 
kept  aloof  from  that  expression  of  loyalty  to  the  Re- 
formed Church  of  England.  Truly  Catholic-minded  and 
wondrously  large-hearted,  if  he  did  but  recognise  in  any 
one  earnestness  and  reality  of  service,  he  was  prepared 
to  overlook  all  else.  Proof  of  all  this  is  at  hand,  but 
indeed  it  has  been  furnished  already.  He  gave  to  every 
undergraduate  when  he  first  called  upon  him,  a copy  of 
Bp.  Wilson  ‘ on  the  Lord's  Supper! — When  at  Rome,  he 
was  duly  presented  to  the  Pope  and  kissed  the  hand  of 
“ his  holiness.” 

Followed  by  “troops  of  friends,” — (for  every  chief 
resident  of  the  University  attended  his  funeral,) — Dr. 
Cotton  was  conveyed  to  his  last  resting-place  in  Holy- 
well  Cemetery  on  Tuesday,  14th  Dec.,  1880.  The  former 
part  of  the  Burial  Office  was  read  in  the  college  chapel 
by  the  Rev.  C.  H.  O.  Daniel,  assisted  by  the  Dean  of 
Chichester : and,  on  reaching  the  grave,  the  latter,  as- 
sisted by  the  Rev.  C.  P.  Golightly,  concluded  the  service. 
The  undergraduates  of  Worcester  were  joined  by  many 
non-resident  graduate  members  of  the  College, — not  a 
few  of  whom  came  up  from  distant  parts  of  the  country 
to  show  this  last  mark  of  respect  to  their  venerated  chief. 
No  one  in  Oxford  was  more  universally  loved  or  more 
heartily  and  deservedly  revered  than  Dr.  Cotton. 

2 From  tlie  Eev.  C.  H.  0.  Daniel,  Fellow  and  Tutor  of  Worcester. 


88 


Worcester  College. 


May  I be  forgiven  if  I conclude  this  brief  Memoir  of 
one  who  was  very  dear  indeed  to  me,  by  appending 
some  verses  written  upwards  of  thirty  years  ago,  entitled 
“ WoKCESTER  College  I do  this,  not  so  much  because 

of  the  poetical  reference  to  “ our  Provost  ” which  those 
lines  contain,  as  because  in  the  scene  which  they  en- 
deavour to  pourtray  and  the  personages  which  they  seek 
to  commemorate.  Dr.  Cotton  had  been  for  so  long  a 
period  the  central  figure.  Not  least,  let  me  add,  because 
it  is  a solace  to  me  to  associate  my  memory  with  the 
name  of  a College  within  whose  walls  I passed  the  three 
happiest  years  of  my  life : — from  whose  members  I never 
experienced  anything  but  loving-kindness ; — and  from 
which  [1842-6]  I derived  benefits  which  I can  only 
characterize  as  priceless.  ^ Floreat  Figornia!’ 

So,  last  in  order,  first  in  my  regard. 

Dear  Worcester!  every  well-known  nook  of  thine 
I’ve  trod  in  thought ; and  now,  behold,  I stand 
Here  on  thy  threshold  ready  to  depart. 

I stand,  but  turn.  Who  turns  not  where  he  loves'? 
Ah,  let  me  leave  in  token  of  my  love 
These  flowers  upon  thy  forehead  ! So  they  shine 
One  evening,  I’m  content : I know  thou’lt  keep 
The  dead  leaves  for  my  sake  when  I am  gone. 

Blest  be  the  year,  the  month,  the  day,  the  hour. 
When  first  we  met!  Ev’n  now,  the  contrast  strange 
Haunts  me,  between  thy  most  unpromising  front 
And  what  I found  within: — a terraced  height 
Crowned  by  tall  structures  of  a classic  mould. 

On  this  side ; and  on  that,  a row  of  small 

^ These  verses  were  written  to  ac-  Worcester  was  the  last  founded,  al- 
company  some  ‘ Historical  Notices  though,  as  a place  of  learning,  it  is 
of  theColleges  of  Oxford^ — of  which  among  the  oldest  of  the  Colleges. 


Worcester  College, 


89 


Irregular  antique  tenements,  with  quaint  shields 
Bossing  each  doorway.  Wide  between  the  twain, 
Guiltless  of  daisies,  spread  an  emerald  lawn, 

Severing  as  ’twere  the  old  world  from  the  new, — 

The  present  from  the  past : and  there  were  flowers 
(^So  bright  and  young  beside  those  old  grey  walls !) 
Which  humanized  the  scene,  as  children  do. 

With  touch  of  fresher  nature.  All  beyond. 

The  eye  roved  free,  for  there  the  garden  rose, — 

Kose  in  a sweet  confusion  of  green  boughs ; 

And  all  was  quiet,  quiet  as  the  grave. 

Well,  ’twas  a happy  time,  those  three  swift  years 
I spent  within  thy  walls:  a happier  time 
In  all  my  span  of  life  I not  remember. 

And  now,  because  ’tis  hived  where  nothing  more 
Can  harm  or  change  it,  much  less  take  away. 

Oft  up  and  down  the  gallery  of  those  days 
I walk,  and  muse  of  this  thing  and  of  that. 

And  pause  before  each  picture  of  the  past. 

Our  Provost,  might  I paint  him,  was  a man 
Of  wondrous  grave  aspect : of  stature  small. 

Yet  full  of  Christian  dignity;  so  full 
Of  human  kindness,  that  a child  could  pick 
The  lock  upon  his  heart.  ’Twas  sport  to  watch. 
When  chased  by  beggars  near  the  College  wall, 

(Some  mother  of  a fabulous  brood  of  bairns,) 

How  soon  he’d  strike  his  colours  to  the  foe  . . . 

Ever  the  first  in  Chapel ; at  his  prayers 
A homily  to  inattentive  hearts : 

The  College  loved,  revered  him,  to  a man. 

Then,  would  you  know  our  Tutors,  each  was  great. 
But  in  his  several  way.  What  excellent  gifts 


90 


Worcester  College. 


Were  Muckleston’s ! — [m^  Tutor  he;  well  skilled 

In  dialectic ; grand  in  all  the  moods 

From  ‘Barbara’  on).^  And  Thomas,^ — even  now 

I seem  to  catch  the  full  majestic  tide 

Of  his  large  knowledge,  various,  apt,  and  clear. 

Which  brought  fertility  where’er  it  flowed. 

How  would  he  handle  those  old  classic  themes 
Till  in  our  hands  the  lifeless  pages  grew 
Instinct  with  beauty,  yielding  purple  flowers ! 

But  Richard  Greswell  ® was  my  special  friend : 

To  get  whose  living  image,  see  you  join 
To  childlike  guilelessness  a sage’s  wit. 

Truth  like  a woman’s,  bounty  like  a king’s. 

And  then  you’ll  know  the  man.  . . . Yet  incomplete 
Were  any  portrait-gallery  of  that  time 
Which  kept  no  corner  for  James  Bullock’s  face."^ 
Kind-hearted  Bullock!  whose  quick-flashing  wit, 
Harmless  as  lightning  in  the  summer  dark, 

For  ever  kept  high-table  in  a roar. 

And  sure  am  I that  Mirth  was  never  slow 
To  come  where  we  were  sitting.  But  how  changed, 

* See  above,  p.  83,  note.  and  the  date  of  liia  death,  are  thus 

® The  Rev.  George  Fuller  Thomas,  commemorated  on  a marble  slab 

M.A.  His  connexion  with  the  Col-  which  meets  the  eye  of  one  ascending 

lege,  the  charm  of  his  character,  the  Library  stairs  : — 

NOLITE  . OBLIVISCI  . VIGOKNIENSES 

VIRI  • RBVERENDI  . GEORGIl  • EVLLER  • THOMAS  • A.M. 

HVJVS  . COLLEGII  • GLIM  • SCHOLAKIS 
QVI  . PRAECIPIENDI  . MVNERE  . INTEA  . HAS  • AEDES 
PER  . XXIV  . ANNOS  . QVAM  • PELICISSIME  FVNCTVS 
DECESSIT  . DIE  . XXVIII  • JVLII  . A.S.  • MDCCCLXVIII 
VIE  . ERAT  . SIMPLEX  . SINCEEVS  • PIVS 
INGENIO  . EXCVLTO  • DOCTRINA  . EXIMIA  • MODESTIA  . INSIGNI 
VIXIT  . OMNIBVS  • CAEVS  . LXVIII  • ANNOS 
AVE  . ANIMA  . DVLCIS 


® See  the  next  Memoir. 


Late  Fellow  of  Worcester. 


Worcester  College. 


91 


Good  lack ! how  changed  is  everything  since  then ! 
New  figures  fill  our  places  in  the  Hall: 
Unheard-of  names  are  writ  above  our  doors: 

Men  stare  to  meet  me  in  the  garden  walk, 

As  if  I were  a stranger.  Am  I then 

Forgot  already,  like  a foot-print  left 

Last  night  upon  the  sand?  ...  So  come  and  go 

The  generations  here,  as  summer  birds 

Which  build  and  twitter  underneath  the  eaves. 

And  straight  are  lost  for  ever.  All  my  friends 

Are  scattered  from  me : and  no  broken  chain, — 

No  blossom-laden  bough  in  time  of  wind, — 

No  heaven  of  stars  at  blush  of  early  dawn, — 

Is  left  more  bare  of  ornament  than  I. 


Did  we  not  hold  such  converse,  when,  last  June, 
We  paced  thy  garden- walk  between  the  yews. 

And  roved  the  mountain-valley  near  thy  home, 

Dear  Hensley?^  Did  we  not, — what  time  the  moon 
Slept  on  Penarran's  side, — count  o’er  the  names 
Of  friends  departed ; noting  with  amaze 
What  havoc  in  our  ranks  ten  years  had  wrought? 
We  spoke  of  each:  of  Skeffington, who  seemed 
Too  full  of  life  to  die, — Akers,  ^ too  full 
Of  goodness  long  to  live : of  many  more 


* The  Kev.  Alfred  Hensley,  Cot- 
grave,  Notts:  once  Curate  of  Kerry, 
Montgomeryshire. 

« The  Hon.  Henry  Kobert  Skeff- 
ington  died  at  Rome,  1 7th  February, 
1846,  aged  22  years,  and  sleeps  in 
the  English  Cemetery  there.  He 
was  a young  man  of  exceeding  piety 
and  extraordinary  literary  promise. 
His  younger  sister  in  1 848  published 
a volume  of  his  poetry, — full  of 
genius  and  lofty  aspiration.  She 


styled  it, — ‘A  Testimony' 

^ The  ,Rev.  Aretas  Akers  (of 
Mailing  Abbey,  Kent,) — sometime 
Curate  of  Fletching  in  Sussex,  and 
of  Smeeton  Westerby,  (a  hamlet  of 
Kibworth)  in  Leicestershire, — died 
of  consumption,  on  the  19th  August, 
1856,  aged  31.  Into  a few  years  of 
ministerial  earnestness  and  activity, 
he  seemed  to  compress  the  labours 
of  a long  life.  TeXacoOels  kv  oKi-yo) 
kTrKrjpcnae  xpovovs  yaKpovs. 


92 


Worcester  College. 


Grown  Husbands,  Fathers,  Widowers ; while  of  some 
We  had  no  news,  and  wondered  how  they  fared  . . 
Meanwhile,  the  Mule  went  sparkling  on  its  way 
Beside  us,  babbling,  bubbling : and  you  said, — 

“ The  Mule  comes  trickling  down  from  yonder  hill : 
Finds  the  Mahelly : the  Mahelly  finds 
The  Severn ; and  the  Severn  finds  the  sea. 

All  find  the  sea  at  last ! A little  while 
Parted  asunder, — but  a little  while, — 

And  then  all  find  the  sea.”  . . . Whereon  we  took 
Our  journey  home  in  silence,  and  sat  down 
To  watch  the  slumbers  of  thy  motherless  babe. 

No  more ! The  day  hath  dwindled  into  dusk. 

An  hundred  solemn  throbs  of  sound,  and  one. 

Have  changed  the  dusk  of  evening  into  dark. 

And,  for  that  night  is  fitting  time  for  prayer, 

Be  this  my  prayer  for  Worcester, — That  her  sons 
May  love  her  only  half  as  well  as  I, 

And  all  prove  twice  as  worthy.  . . So,  good-night! 
Tapers  are  gleaming  in  the  casements : rays 
Of  glory  streak  the  lawn : there  come  and  go 
Shadows,  and  laughing  voices,  and  stray  notes 
Of  ‘ Annie  Laurie,’  which  one  resolute  soul 
Wrings  out  in  puffs  from  a refractory  horn. 

The  servants  hurry  past  me : only  Joe, 

{Who  knows  not  old  Joe  Preston?)  wondering  why 
I stare  so  hard  at  what  I know  so  well. 

Pauses ; and  fraught  with  viands,  bread  and  beer, 
Quoth  he  to  me, — ‘ Good-night,  sir ! ’ I to  him. 

And  to  dear  Worcester,  pass  the  word, — ‘Good-night! 


Oriel,  Jime,  1857. 


(VII).  RICHARD  GRESWELL : 

THE  FAITHFUL  STEWARD. 

[A.D.  1800—1881.] 

None  of  the  older  raembers  of  Worcester  College 
will  have  noticed  in  the  papers,  a few  years  since, 
the  record  of  the  death  of  the  Rev.  Richard  Greswell 
without  experiencing  a pang  of  affectionate  regret.  Con- 
strained, not  so  much  by  reason  of  his  age  as  of  his 
increasing  infirmities,  to  withdraw  from  social  gatherings 
in  Oxford,  he  had  been  for  the  last  few  years  of  his  life 
regarded  by  men  of  a younger  generation  almost  as  a 
tradition  of  the  past.  But  in  the  account  of  older  men, — 
men  who  have  carried  with  them  into  the  provinces  the 
pleasant  memories  of  their  College  days,  (“  hived  in  their 
bosoms  like  the  bag  o’  the  bee  ”), — his  name  will  awaken 
none  but  living  images  of  intellectual  activity  and  untir- 
ing benevolence ; dashed,  it  may  be,  with  playful  recol- 
lections of  such  childlike  simplicity  of  character  and 
utter  guilelessness  of  disposition  as  are  seldom  met  with 
now-a-days.  Some  few  too  there  must  needs  be,  (though 
their  number  is  growing  rapidly  less  and  less),  who,  at 
the  mention  of  Riohakd  Greswell,  will  secretly  kindle 
with  generous  emotion  towards  one  of  the  noblest  names 
which  adorns  the  Church’s  annals:  the  name  of  a 
great  public  benefactor,  who  moved  through  life  indeed 
without  one  token  of  public  appreciation,  but  whose 


94 


Richard  G reswell: 


[1800 


reward  will  most  assuredly  not  be  forgotten  in  that  Day 
when  the  secrets  of  all  hearts  shall  be  revealed.  I will 
but  add  in  the  way  of  preface,  that  at  Oxford,  where  so 
many  marked  diversities  of  character  are  apparent,  this 
friend  ever  seemed  to  me,  more  than  any  of  his  fellows, 
to  stand  apart, — to  stand  alone. 

Richard,  fourth  son  of  the  Rev.  William  Parr  Greswell 
[1766 — 1854],  was  born  at  Denton,  in  Lancashire,  of 
which  his  father  was  perpetual  Curate,  July  22,  1800. 
Like  his  brothers,  he  received  his  early  education  under 
his  Father’s  roof  and  at  his  Father’s  hands.  His  Mother 
was  Anne  Hague  [1766-1841].  William  Parr  Greswell 
was  a man  of  great  acquirement  and  of  solid  learning.  A 
considerable  author,  too,  he  was,  as  the  subjoined  enumera- 
tion of  his  works  proves.^  But  his  greatest  work  by 
far  was  authorship  of  another  kind.  It  may  be  questioned 
whether  another  instance  could  be  found  of  a Father,  who 
(beginning  life  as  he  did  with  a miserable  pittance  of  50/. 
a year)  could  yet  boast  of  having  trained  and  sent 
up  to  the  University,  (after  in  part  educating,)  five 
sons,  every  one  of  whom  achieved  high  honours,  and 
obtained  a Fellowship — viz.,  at  Balliol,  at  Corpus,  at 
Oriel,  at  Brasenose,  and  at  Worcester  respectively.  The 
thing  has  been  made  in  a manner  impossible  under  the 
altered  conditions  of  Oxford. 

The  subject  of  the  present  Memoir, — (I  owe  the  infor- 
mation to  his  brother  Clement,  sometime  Fellow  of  Oriel, 
— the  youngest  and  last  surviving  of  the  seven^,)— “ was 

^ I know  of  the  following : — ’•  Me-  of  the  Early  Parisian  Greek  Press  ’ 

moirs  of  Angelus  Politianusl  &c.,  '(Two  vols.),  1833. 

1801, — ‘Annals  of  Parisian  Typo-  ^ Thomas  Haemer,  (eldest  son), 
graphyy  1818, — ‘Monastery  of  S.  [1795-1819],  at  a very  early  age, 
Werhurgh : a Pom,’ 1823, — ‘View  succeeded  his  uncle,  Kev.  John 


The  Faithful  Steward. 


95 


i8i8] 

not  in  early  life  intended  for  the  University.  The  bent 
of  his  mind  was  mathematical  and  mechanical.  He  was 
born  with  a genius  for  this  kind  of  intellectual  eminence ; 
and  would  in  all  probability  have  realised  a mighty 
fortune,  had  his  Father  carried  out  his  first  intention, 
— which  was  to  place  him  in  the  counting-house  of  one 
of  the  millionaire  cotton-masters  in  his  vicinity.”  He 
changed  his  plans  about  Richard,  when  his  two  elder 
brothers,  William  and  Edward,  gained  their  honours  at 
Oxford,  and  determined  to  send  Richard  there  also.  For 
this  purpose,  the  last  named  had  to  resume  his  classical 
studies,  which  for  some  time  previously  he  had  laid  aside. 


It  is  thought  that  what  determined  the  choice  of 
Worcester  College  for  Richard  Greswell,  was  that,  just  at 
the  time  when  his  elder  brother,  Edward  (Fellow  of 
C.C.C.),  obtained  his  double-first  class,  there  happened  to 
be  a scholarship  election  at  Worcester  on  a foundation 
open  to  sons  of  Clergymen.  Richard  was  advised  to  stand 
for  it, — and  thus  got  on  the  foundation,  June  ist,  i8i8. 
His  tutor  was  the  Rev.  John  Miller,  author  of  some  famous 
‘ Bampton  Lectures,'’ — one  of  those  excellent  men  whose 
memorial  survives  in  an  imperishable  page,  though  his 
name  is  half,  or  quite  forgotten  by  the  present  generation. 


Greswell,  as  Master  of  Chetham 
Hospital  school. — (2)  William  [1796 
-1876],  fellow  of  Balliol,  rector  of 
Kilve. — (3)  Edward  [1797-1869], 
fellow  of  C.C.C. — (4)  Richard  [1800 
-1881],  fellow  of  Worcester. — (5) 
Charles  [ 1 802-44],  a physician. — (6) 
Francis  Hague  [1803-30],  fellow  of 
B.N.C. — (7)  Clement  [1809-1882], 
fellow  of  Oriel,  rector  of  Tortworth. 
There  were  also  two  daughters. 

Two.  of  these  brothers,  William 
and  Edward,  for  the  five  years  im- 


mediately preceding  their  removal 
to  Oxford,  were  educated  at  Man- 
chester School,  where  they  were 
favourite  pupils  of  the  Rev.  Jere- 
miah Smith.  His  son,  the  Rev.  I. 
Finch  Smith,  (who  edited  for  the 
‘Chetham  Society’  the  ‘Register’ 
of  the  School  with  Notices  of  the 
more  distinguished  scholars,)  has 
given  a biographical  sketch  of  Wil- 
liam and  Edward  Greswell,  in  vol. 
iii.  pp.  77-82.  [I  find  that  ‘ Chet- 
ham ’ is  now  written  ‘ Cheetham.*^ 


96 


Richard  G reswell: 


[i8i8 

Singularly  enough,  a letter  of  his  (dated  ‘Bockleton, 
near  Tenbury,  May  r7,  182:^’),  addressed  to  Kichard 
Greswell’s  father,  comes  to  light  at  this  instant ; and 
describes  the  graces  and  the  goodness  of  the  young  man 
who  had  at  that  instant  achieved  the  summit  of  his 
ambition, — the  attainment,  namely,  of  a double-first 
class.  In  the  same  list,  by  the  way,  appear  the  names  of 
Bp.  Denison  and  Dr.  Pusey.  The  author  of  the  ‘ Christian 
Year  ’ was  one  of  Bichard’s  examiners.  “ His  persever- 
ance, modesty,  and  dutifulness^ — uniformly  exemplary 
throughout  his  course,” — had  so  impressed  John  Miller  in 
his  favour,  that  he  could  not  withhold  a glowing  tribute 
in  the  young  man’s  praise. 

Bichard  Gres  well  was  at  once  (viz.  in  1822)  appointed 
‘ assistant  Tutor’  of  his  College,  and  in  the  ensuing  year, 
full  Tutor, — an  office  which  he  retained  for  thirty  years. 
In  June,  1824,  he  was  elected  Fellow  of  the  Society,  and 
was  made  ‘Dean’  in  1825.^ 

His  great  and  varied  learning  made  his  lectures  truly 
valuable  to  those  who  sincerely  desired  to  profit  by 
them ; while  his  childlike  simplicity  of  character  was 
what  chiefly  struck  the  idler  sort.  No  one  has  borne 
more  striking  testimony  to  his  profound  erudition,  and 
real  skill  as  a teacher,  than  an  unknown  correspondent 
of  the  ‘ Guardian  ’ newspaper,^  who  writes  as  follows : — 

“ When  I entered  Oxford,  I did  not  know  one  propo- 
sition of  Euclid  from  another.  Mr.  Greswell  had  the 
irksome  duty  of  preparing  candidates  for  ‘ Little-goh  His 
intimate  knowledge  of  the  Greek  text  of  Euclid,  his 

® Also  in  1832-3.  The  years  of  1825, — B.D.  in  1836. 
his  Bursarship  (1826,  1833-4)  Aug.  24th,  1881.  The 

made  memorable  to  the  College.  He  communication  is  signed  X.  Y. 
became  B.A.  in  1822, — M.A.  in  May  I know  the  writer’s  name  ? 


The  Faithful  Steward. 


97 


1825] 

power  of  illustrating  any  given  proposition,  were  such  as 
to  enchant  any  one  fond  of  real  Science.  No  man  known 
to  me  could  have  given  a better  critical  edition  of  Euclid. 
The  work  has  not  yet  been  done. 

“ Similarly,  in  Theology.  I remember  on  one  occasion, 
after  a lecture  in  the  Ethics,  to  have  asked  him  for 
guidance  as  to  the  bearing  of  the  doctrine  of  original  Sin 
on  the  principles  set  forth  by  Aristotle.  He  gave  me  in 
few  words  a sketch.  The  basis  was  broader  than  that  of 
Pearson, — the  summit,  I think,  was  higher ; and  I well 
remember  that,  when  I went  up  for  Orders,  Bishop 
Denison  recognised  the  work  of  my  teacher.  At  any  rate 
he  thought  proper  to  make  inquiry. — I wish  Mr.  Gres- 
well  had  published  notes  on  the  ‘ Ethics  ’ and  ‘ Rhetoric.^ 
His  thoughts  were  of  singular  value. 

“ So,  years  after,  I was  somewhat  disturbed  as  to 
the  teaching  of  the  School  of  Alexandria.  I am  not 
speaking  of  it  as  depicted  in  fashionable  novels  and 
by  Gibbon.  I had  obtained  most  of  the  works  which 
had  been  accepted  as  worthy  of  prizes  by  the  French 
authorities.  But  I needed  further  light,  and  Mr.  Gres- 
well  pointed  out  to  my  notice  the  work  of  Gorres,  on 
‘ Mystih!  I feel  sure  that  he  could  have  added  something 
which  seems  wanting  in  Cardinal  Newman’s  ‘ Grammar 
of  Assent.’  Mr.  Greswell’s  mathematical  power  always 
seemed  to  me  to  lead  him  to  argue,  in  technical  language, 
‘ up  to  the  limit.’  I felt  compelled  to  bow  before  him.  I 
may  be  wrong,  but  I very  much  doubt  whether  the 
present  system  of  setting  algebraical  puzzles  will  bring 
out  all  the  definite,  sharp,  clear  results  of  the  older 
School, — I mean  in  the  training  of  younger  minds. 

“ Again.  In  Moral  guidance  I had,  when  in  trouble, 
to  apply  to  Mr.  Greswell.  Years  ago,  I had  applied  for 
a post  for  which  I fancied  myself  fit.  I had  naturally 
asked  for  testimonials.  I received  favourable  replies : 
from  one  authority,  most  certainly,  a most  friendly  letter. 
I failed,  and  when  my  testimonials  were  returned  I 
found  a letter  marked  ^private,’  which  astounded  me. 
My  friends  advised  action  in  a court  of  law,  but  I placed 

YOL.  II.  H 


98 


Richard  Greswell: 


[1826 

the  matter  in  the  hands  of  Mr.  Greswell.  How  any  man 
could  have  written  the  letter  to  me,  and  also  the  letter 
marked  ‘ private,’  was  incomprehensible.  Mr.  Greswell 
begged  me  to  give  up  the  letter,  and  I did  so.  He  was 
right. 

“ It  will  always  be  a matter  of  bitter  regret  to  me 
that  I could  not  seek  and  obtain  the  privilege  of  standing 
bareheaded  at  the  grave  of  one  to  whom  I owe  so  very 
much.” 

Such  then  was  Richard  Greswell  as  a Tutor  of  Wor- 
cester College. 

His  first  achievement  on  becoming  Bursar  of  the 
society  (viz.  in  1826,  and  again  in  1833-4,)  was  to  set 
about  transforming  what,  until  then,  had  been  a dreary 
swamp  into  a College  garden.  This  he  did  at  his  own 
expense,  devoting  the  emoluments  of  his  Bursarship  to 
that  object.  Worcester  College  Gardens, — one  of  the 
pleasantest  haunts  in  Oxford, — are,  in  fact,  the  creation 
of  the  subject  of  this  memoir, — an  abiding  monument  of 
his  liberality,  taste,  and  inventive  genius. 

In  1836,  (April  5th,  at  S.  Mary  Magdalen  Church, 
Oxford,)  he  was  united  to  Joana  Julia,  youngest  daughter 
of  the  Rev.  James  Armitriding  [1750-1832],  rector  of 
Steeple-Aston,  Oxfordshire,  for  two-and-forty  years. 
This  lady  brought  him  a good  fortune.  It  sufficed  in 
fact  for  all  the  requirements  of  modest  housekeeping : 
so  that  he  was  enabled,  with  characteristic  liberality,  to 
bestow  on  charitable  objects  the  proceeds  of  his  Tutor- 
ship. The  secret  of  his  ability  to  be  bountiful, — (and 
Richard  Greswell  was  even  munificent), — was,  that  both 
he  and  his  admirable  wife  lived  most  unostentatiously. 
The  personal  expenses  of  either  were  inconsiderable. 
They  were  one  in  spirit  and  disposition,  and  that  to 


1843] 


The  Faithful  Steward. 


99 


a rare  degree.  Mrs.  Greswell  died  in  1875:  having 
shown  herself  a truly  loving,  helpful  Wife, — a most 
devoted  and  judicious  Mother. 

The  dates  above  written, — 1834  and  1836, — remind 
me  to  mention  that  Richard  was  a hearty  adherent 
of  what  used  to  be  called  the  ‘ Tractarian  ’ party ; 
though,  like  the  man  with  whom  he  was  most  intimate, 
most  completely  at  one  in  Oxford,  (the  Rev.  William 
Palmer,  author  of  the  ^ Origines  Liturgicae'),  he  would 
have  nothing  to  do  with  the  movement  when  it  ceased 
to  be  Anglican.  Of  large  sympathies  and  true  Catholic 
instincts,  he  reckoned  among  his  personal  friends  many 
whose  views  were  totally  opposed  to  those  cherished  by 
himself,  alike  in  Religion  and  Politics.  Only  with  the 
unbelieving  School  would  he  never  make  any  terms 
whatever.  He  abhorred  the  dishonesty  which  seeks  to 
destroy  what  it  has  solemnly  pledged  itself  to  maintain 
and  uphold. 

Greswell’s  grandest  achievement  was  the  setting  on 
foot,  and  bringing  to  a triumphant  issue,  the  large  volun- 
tary subscription  on  behalf  of  National  Christian  Edu- 
cation, which  was  enterprised  upwards  of  forty  years 
ago.  In  the  middle  of  June  1843,  it  had  become  evident 
that  Sir  James  Graham  would  be  under  the  necessity 
of  withdrawing  his  scheme  of  Education,  which  was 
only  just  tolerated  by  the  Church,  and  had  been  loudly 
repudiated  by  the  unanimous  voice  of  the  Dissenters. 
The  matter  was  urgent  in  the  highest  degree : the  want 
was  of  the  most  serious  kind  ; and  the  moment  was 
critical.  Then  it  was  that  Richard  Greswell  came  nobly 
to  the  front, — inaugurating  the  movement  by  himself 
giving  1, 000/.,  and  by  his  letters  obtaining  a similar  sum 
from  Sir  Robert  Peel,  her  Majesty  the  Queen,  Mrs. 

H % 


loo  Richard  G reswell:  [1843 

Lawrence  of  Studley  Park,  the  Dukes  of  Northumberland 
and  Portland,  and  Mr.  A.  Beresford  Hope.  For  Greswell 
addressed  all  that  was  noblest  and  wealthiest  in  the 
land,  and  where  it  was  practicable,  wrote  long  argu- 
mentative letters,  which  were  attended  by  the  happiest 
results.  His  own  (publicly  avowed)  subscription  of  250^. 
became  a precedent  which  all  the  Bishops  followed, — the 
two  Archbishops  and  the  Bishop  of  London  giving  500/. 
each.  In  the  end,  the  National  Society  entered  the  field 
with  a capital  of  250,000/.  Thus,  by  the  spontaneous 
and  independent  exertions  of  individual  Churchmen, 
and  through  the  agency  of  the  ‘National  Society,’  was 
achieved  what  a Whig  Government  first,  and  a Tory 
Government  afterwards,  had  not  been  able  to  accomplish ; 
viz.  the  laying  of  the  foundations  of  the  great  work  of 
National  Education.  By  this  effort  the  Nonconformist 
bodies  were  shamed  into  a similar  movement,  and 
eventually  raised  a very  large  sum.  “ The  entire 
movement  was  due  to  the  zeal  and  to  the  munificence 
of  one  man,-^our  friend  Richard  Greswell.  But  ‘ tulit 
alter  ho7ioresl  When  it  was  found  to  be  a success,  the 
Heads  of  Houses  took  up  the  undertaking,  and,  of  course, 
reaped  all  the  credit.”  ^ 

I had  written  thus  far  meo  Marte^  when, — jdelding  to  a 
happy  impulse, — I determined  to  entreat  my  ancient 
friend,  the  Rev.  William  Palmer  of  Worcester  College, 
to  send  me  his  own  impressions  on  the  foregoing  subject. 
Well  aware  of  the  intimacy  and  deep-rooted  affection 
which  had  ever  subsisted  between  himself  and  the 
subject  of  the  present  memoir,  I added  that  I should  be 
glad  of  a few  words  concerning  R.  G.’s  character, — if  he 
was  disposed  to  furnish  me  with  such  help.  The  re- 

® From  Dr.  Greenhill. 


1843] 


The  Faithful  Steward. 


lOI 


sponse  which  my  importunity  elicited  shall  be  laid  before 
the  reader  in  full.  It  is  prefaced  by  a reflexion  on  “ the 
utter  hollowness  of  human  fame.  We  know  not  the 
benefactors  of  our  race.  Their  good  actions  are  buried 
in  oblivion, — never  to  be  known  until  they  are  pro- 
claimed at  the  last  Day.”  William  Palmer, — (writing 
from  ‘ Malvern,  Aug.  15th,  1881,’) — proceeds  : — 

“ It  is  not  upon  the  private  side  of  Mr.  Gres  well’s 
character  that  I propose  to  linger; — that  aspect  of  his 
life  which  was  known  only  in  private  circles.  I shall 
dwell  exclusively  upon  circumstances  which  have  always 
appeared  to  me  so  completely  to  overshadow  all  the  rest 
of  his  personal  history,  as  to  constitute  its  main,  and 
most  remarkable  feature, — in  comparison  of  which  every 
thing  else  is  of  no  importance.  I allude  to  the  services 
he  rendered  to  the  Church  of  England. 

“ Those  services  are  so  entirely  unknown,  that  prob- 
ably few  will  comprehend  my  meaning.  They  were 
private  services.  They  relate  to  a state  of  things  which 
has  in  many  respects  passed  away;  but  they  constitute 
a chapter  in  the  secret  history  of  the  Church  which  will 
not  be  without  its  interest  as  showing  the  hidden  springs 
which  sometimes  underlie  great  movements.  The  cir- 
cumstances referred  to  took  place  about  46  years  since.  ® 
Unable  to  verify  dates  by  reference  to  authorities,  I 
trust  that  any  slight  inadvertencies  will  be  excused. 

“ Attention  has  lately  been  directed  to  the  encouraging 
fact,  that,  notwithstanding  the  strenuous  eflbrts  made 
in  recent  years  to  supersede  Christian  Education  by 
means  of  Secular  Schools,  the  Church  has  been  able 
to  sustain  her  educational  system ; and  that  a majority 
of  the  rising  generation  still  prefers  her  instruction  to 
that  of  Sectarians,  or  of  Secularists.  That  the  Church 
of  England  has  been  enabled  to  bring  about  this  great 
result,  and  thus  to  occupy  a position  which,  even  in 
these  days  of  unsettled  principles,  secures  for  her  some 

® This  was  written  in  i88i.  See  below,  page  103,  note  (7). 


102  Richard  Greswell:  [1843 

consideration  from  ‘ the  powers  that  be,’ — is,  I venture 
to  say,  essentially  due  to  the  exertions  of  Mr.  Greswell. 

“ The  time  referred  to  was  in  the  reign  of  King 
William  IV,  some  few  years  after  the  passing  of  the 
Act  for  ‘ Catholic  Umancipation' — and  its  sequel,  the 
‘ Reform  Bill!  It  is  needless  to  dwell  on  these  crises 
in  the  affairs  of  Church  and  State  ; the  consequences 
whereof,  predicted  in  vain  by  their  opponents,  have  not 
yet  run  their  course.  The  State  had  broken  its  alliance 
with  the  Church,  and  placed  itself  under  the ' control  of 
the  Papacy,  and  of  influences  animated  by  a deadly 
hostility  to  the  Church.  The  sister  Church  in  Ireland 
had  been  plundered,  and  its  bishoprics  swept  away. 
The  Bishops  of  England  had  received  from  the  Minister 
of  the  day  the  ominous  notice  ‘to  set  their  houses  in 
order.’  Attacks,  aiming  at  the  destruction  of  the 
Church  of  England,  were  in  every  session  of  Parliament 
unceasing. 

“One  great  object  of  the  revolutionary  party  had  long 
been  to  destroy  the  Schools  of  the  Church  of  England, 
and  establish  some  National  system  of  Education  dis- 
sociated from  Christianity.  Even  the  ‘ British  School 
Society,^  instituted  by  Liberalism,  because  it  retained 
the  Bible  in  its  Schools,  was  too  Christian  for  these 
reformers,  now  known  as  Secularists.  Their  agitation 
at  length  bore  fruit,  and  the  Government  passed  a 
measure, — the  origin  of  the  present  Department  of 
Government, — by  which  provision  was  made  by  the 
State  for  the  erection  of  Schools,  and  for  their  main- 
tenance, subject  to  certain  conditions,  such  as  the 
substantial  character  of  buildings,  their  dimensions,  &c. ; 
and  the  admission  of  ‘ Government  Inspectors.’ 

“ The  Church  of  England  had  long  perceived  the 
objects  of  the  Secularists  ; and  the  efforts  in  past  years 
of  the  Clergy  and  Laity,  and  especially  of  the  ‘ National 
Society  for  the  Bclucation  of  the  Children  of  the  Boor  in  the 
principles  of  the  National  Church!  had  been  very  great ; 
but  those  efforts  confessedly  fell  short  of  the  educational 
wants  of  the  country,  which  demanded  funds  which 


1843]  The  Faithful  Steward.  103 

mere  voluntary  subscriptions  could  not  sufficiently 
provide. 

“ In  fact,  to  meet  fully  the  exigencies  of  the  case,  and 
educate  the  people  of  England  at  the  expense  of  the 
State  (as  the  Secularists  wanted  to  do)  would  have 
demanded  sums  so  vast,  that  no  Government  could  dare 
to  encounter  the  financial  responsibility.  When  the 
Education  Act  was  passed,  the  Government  was  com- 
pelled to  rely  to  a great  degree  upon  the  Voluntary 
principle,  and  did  not  venture  to  do  more  than  sub- 
sidize Schools  erected  and  maintained  by  private  ex- 
ertions ; and  so  it  happened  that  the  State  aid  was 
offered  indiscriminately  to  Schools  of  all,  or  of  no 
denominations,  in  proportion  to  the  sums  voluntarily 
subscribed  for  their  erection,  or  support.  The  principle 
of  prefere?ice for  an  Established  Church  was  thus  abandoned: 
all  sects  were  placed  on  an  equality  [with  the  Church]. 
Secularism  and  Dissent  thus  obtained  a recognition  of 
their  principle  ; but  they  did  not  for  some  time  under- 
stand what  was  involved  in  this  impartial  distribution 
of  the  State  funds ; and  they  probably  never  would 
have  done  so, — had  not  Mr.  Greswell  been  then  living. 

“ It  was  (I  think)  in  1834  that  this  Legislation  took 
place,  or  early  in  1 835  ; and  what  follows  may  be  placed 
I presume  in  1835-6.  I cannot  at  this  distance  of  time, 
and  having  no  means  of  correction  at  hand,  speak  posi- 
tively as  to  dates,'^  but  the  circumstances  of  the  time 
I shall  not  easily  forget. 

“ Upon  the  passing  of  the  Government  Bill  for  Education 


Out  of  affection  and  respect  for 
the  writer,  I leave  his  letter  as  I 
find  it.  And  indeed  the  'political 
eveiftts  to  which  he  refers  may  well 
belong  to  the  years  1834-6 : but  it 
is  proved  (by  a printed  letter  of 
Richard  Greswell’s  which  lies  before 
me)  that  certain  details  given  above, 
at  pp.  99-100,  (and  which  I derived 
entirely  from  that  letter,)  are  correct. 
The  large  sums  first  mentioned  were 


subscribed  in  1843, — during  the 
reign  therefore  of  her  Majesty  Queen 
Victoria. 

The  misgiving  as  to  the  date  of  the 
incident,  twice  expressed  by  the 
writer,  (above  at  p.  loi  and  here,) 
is  very  noticeable.  His  graphic 
picture  of  Greswell’s  share  in  the 
business  remains  wholly  unaffected 
by  the  difference  between  ‘‘  46  ” 
(and  38)  “ years  since.” 


104  Richard  Greswell  : [1843 

at  the  instance  of  the  advocates  of  change,  the  friends 
of  the  Church  were  in  great  doubts  as  to  what  might 
be  its  effect  upon  Church  Education.  They  could  not 
calculate  what  influences  might  be  brought  into  the  field 
against  it,  or  what  funds  might  be  at  their  disposal. 
The  subject  was  so  wide,  that  it  needed  the  deepest 
thought  and  the  most  comprehensive  views  to  determine 
what  was  to  be  done  under  the  circumstances.  The 
Church  generally  was  uneasy  and  depressed  at  the 
prospect  of  a formidable  competition ; and  regretted  to 
see  in  the  Government  measure  a further  severing  of  the 
alliance  which  had  so  long  subsisted  between  Church  and 
State.  No  one  proposed  any  mode  of  remedying  the 
apprehended  evils,  or  of  averting  them. 

“ It  was  at  this  important  crisis  that  a single  individual, 
unknown  to  the  world, — without  fortune,  influence,  con- 
nexions,— suddenly  came  to  the  front,  and  became  the 
saviour  of  the  cause  of  Church  Education  in  England. 
Kichard  Greswell  was  then  35  years  of  age, — in  the 
full  vigour  of  his  powers  mental  and  bodily; — with 
a will,  an  energy,  a perseverance,  combined  with  a 
vigour  of  intellect,  a soundness  and  solidity  of  judgment, 
and  a warmth  of  zeal,  such  as  I have  never  known  else- 
where, combined  with  a humility,  modesty,  and  utter 
unselfishness,  such  as  his.  He  was  at  this  time  nothing 
more  than  a Fellow  and  Tutor  in  Worcester  College, 
Oxford ; — one  of  the  few  mathematicians  and  scientific 
men  in  the  University ; — and  whose  distinction  in  the 
Schools  was  well  remembered.  He  was  the  son  of  a 
venerable  and  excellent  Clergyman,  and  most  accom- 
plished scholar,  who  had  managed,  upon  a miserable 
benefice,  to  educate  five  sons  so  admirably  that  each 
as  he  entered  the  University  became  foremost  in  the 
Schools,  and  was  elected  Fellow  of  his  College.  Of  these 
sons,  Edward,  Fellow  of  Corpus  Christ!  College,  will 
occupy  a high  place  amongst  the  great  scholars  and 
writers  of  his  University.  Richard  Greswell  was,  at  the 
period  referred  to,  almost  unknown  out  of  Oxford. 

“ At  that  time  he  called  upon  me,  (with  whom  he  had 
laboured  before  in  the  cause  of  the  Church,)  in  order 


1843]  The  Faithful  Steward.  105 

to  confer  upon  a subject  with  which  his  whole  soul  was 
full,  to  the  exclusion  of  all  others, — the  recent  Act  for 
National  Education.  He  spoke  with  his  usual  energy  upon 
the  deep  importance  of  the  crisis,  and  of  the  imperative 
necessity  of  being  prepared  to  meet  it.  The  question 
was, — Whether  the  whole  rising  population  should  be 
trained  in  principles  adverse  to  the  Church  of  England 
and  even  to  Christianity  itself : ‘ but  ’ (he  said)  ‘ the  Act 
providentially  comprised  a provision,  the  importance  of 
which  no  one  had  perceived,  but  in  which  he  was 
convinced  lay  the  security  and  preservation  of  the 
Church  Educational  System,  and  the  overthrow  of  the 
attempts  which  were  being  made  to  ruin  it.’  He  then 
explained  the  provision  by  which  State  grants  were  pro- 
portioned to  private  exertions, without  distinction  between 
denominations.  ‘ Consequently  ’ (he  said)  ‘ the  Church  of 
England  cannot  be  prevented  from  receiving  her  full 
share  of  the  State  subsidies ; and  it  depends  upon  her- 
self,— upon  the  exertions  of  her  members, — whether  she 
shall  or  shall  not  retain  the  Education  of  the  rising 
generation : and  if  the  Church  should  be  apathetic  and 
indifferent  at  this  crisis,  every  thing  would  be  lost.’  But 
he  expressed  with  the  utmost  confidence  his  assurance 
that  such  would  not  be  the  issue.  Still,  it  was  of  the 
last  importance  that  not  a moment  should  be  lost.  There 
ought  to  be  no  hesitation  on  the  part  of  the  Church 
in  availing  herself  fully  of  the  opportunity  which  thus 
was  opened  for  her.  Nothing  could  be  more  suicidal 
than  to  reject  the  subsidies  offered  by  the  State  on  the 
ground  that  they  were  not  given  in  the  way  which 
Churchmen  would  consider  to  be  consistent  with  right 
principle. 

“ In  a day  or  two  he  was  with  me  again,  to  communicate 
the  thoughts  which  then  filled  his  every  moment.  He 
came  to  say  that  seeing  no  movement  anywhere  in  the 
direction  needed,  but  an  indisposition  even  to  accept  the 
Government  grants ; and  generally  a total  absence  of 
definite  views  about  the  course  to  be  taken,  he  had 
resolved  to  try  whether  a single  individual  like  himself 
could  not  do  something  towards  initiating  the  exertions 


io6  Richard  G reswell:  [1843 

which  had  become  imperatively  necessary.  He  then 
detailed  his  plan,  which  was  of  so  bold  a character,  that 
it  caused  astonishment  to  the  hearer.  He  spoke  with 
confidence  about  obtaining  the  support  of  the  Prime 
Minister,  Sir  Kobert  Peel : of  the  Archbishop  of  Canter- 
bury ; of  other  great  personages ; and  of  inducing  them  to 
subscribe  great  sums  of  money  to  the  cause  of  Church 
Education;  and  thus  to  set  on  foot  a National  Sub- 
scription,— on  so  mighty  a scale,  that  the  Church  would 
be  enabled  by  its  means  to  obtain  a great  proportion  of 
the  Government  subsidies,  and  thus  to  retain  to  the  full 
her  influence  over  the  rising  generation.  Perhaps  almost 
any  one  who  had  heard  the  plans  detailed  with  a 
vehemence  which  is  indescribable,  would  have  concluded 
that  the  whole  scheme  was  chimerical  and  absurd.  Here 
was  a young  man,  quite  unknown  to  the  world,  without 
rank,  fame,  or  connexions,  proposing  to  himself  to  make 
the  heads  of  the  Church  and  State  come  forward  with 
great  sums  for  the  promotion  of  a plan  suggested  by 
a private  graduate  of  Oxford ! I must  say  that  I felt  far 
from  sanguine  as  to  his  success. 

“ In  another  day  or  two  he  brought  me  his  letter  to  Sir 
Kobert  Peel,  to  whom  he  was  personally  wholly  unknown. 
It  was  very  long,  and  was  written  with  the  utmost 
ability  and  the  soundest  judgment.  The  Minister  was 
appealed  to  upon  principles  and  considerations  carefully 
adapted  to  his  known  views  and  purposes.  The  views  of 
the  writer  were  exhibited  in  perfect  harmony  with  those 
of  the  Government.  The  object  was  stated  to  be  that  of 
completely  and  effectually  carrying  out  the  intentions  of 
the  Legislature,  and  at  the  same  time  of  strengthening 
the  Established  Church,  of  which  the  Minister  was  known 
to  be  a supporter  on  principle.  In  fine,  a strong  appeal 
was  made  to  him  personally,  as  an  attached  member  of 
the  Church  of  England,  to  place  himself  at  the  head 
of  the  Movement,  and  to  set  on  foot  an  adequate  subscrip- 
tion by  himself  contributing  not  less  than  1000/.,  as  an 
example  to  others.  The  writer  mentioned  that  he  had 
himself  subscribed  a similar  sum. 

few  days  passed  during  which  we  awaited  with 


i843]  The  Faithful  Steward.  107 

great  anxiety  the  reply  of  the  Minister  to  this  bold  appli- 
cation. It  came  very  speedily,  and  Mr.  Greswell  appeared 
with  the  letter  in  his  hand,  and  with  a countenance 
beaming  with  delight.  The  answer  was  everything  that 
could  have  been  wished.  It  expressed  entire  approbation 
of  the  object,  to  which  the  Minister  subscribed  the  sum 
of  1000/.,  as  had  been  requested ; and  the  entire  proposal 
and  plan  received  his  patronage  and  support. 

“ Mr.  Greswell  had  applied  in  the  first  instance  to 
Sir  Robert  Peel,  in  the  expectation  that  his  patronage 
would  be  the  means  of  inducing  many  others  to  follow 
his  example.  He  instantly  set  to  work.  His  next 
application  was  to  the  Archbishop  of  Canterbury  (Dr. 
Howley) ; and  he  placed  the  subject  in  such  a light  in 
his  letter,  (which  also  announced  Sir  Robert  Peel’s  and 
his  own  subscriptions  of  1000/.,)  that  the  Archbishop 
consented  to  patronize  the  undertaking,  and  to  give 
a similar  sum. 

“ Thereupon,  the  indefatigable  promoter  of  the  plan 
wrote  again  to  Sir  Robert  Peel  stating  the  concurrence 
of  the  Primate,  and  entreating  him  to  bring  the  whole 
case  before  the  King,  (William lY,)  and  obtain  his  Majesty’s 
patronage  to  the  undertaking.  Mr.  Greswell’s  applica- 
tion was  again  successful.  The  King^  became  patron  of 
the  undertaking,  with  a subscription  of  1000/.  The 
fund  was  now  <^4000,  from  four  subscribers.  Greswell 
instantly  proceeded  in  his  work.  He  was  anxious  that  the 
scheme  should  obtain^  at  the  commencement,  the  support 
of  the  Liberal  as  well  as  of  the  Conservative  party ; and 
having  some  slight  and  remote  pretext  for  appealing  to 
the  Marquess  of  Westminster,  then  one  of  the  leading 
nobles  of  the  Liberal  party,  he  wrote  an  admirable  letter 
to  the  Marquess,  which  I read.  It  was  eminently  calcu- 
lated to  produce  the  desired  effect.  This  letter  also  was 
completely  successful.  On  learning  the  support  which 
the  scheme  had  received,  the  Marquess  gave  a similar 
subscription  of  1000/. 

“ The  matter  had  by  this  time  assumed  such  a form  that 


® See  above, — p.  103,  note  (7). 


io8  Richard  Greswell:  [1843 

success  was  assured.  The  indefatigable  zeal  of  Greswell 
found  fresh  motives  for  exertion  every  day.  I soon  lost 
sight  of  the  details  of  the  great  undertaking  in  which  he 
was  engaged ; but  from  time  to  time  he  showed  me  lists 
of  new  subscriptions  of  the  most  munificent  amount  from 
all  classes  and  parties.  By  his  exertions  in  private 
correspondence  the  fund  rapidly  rose  to  10,000/., 
20,000/.,  30,000/.,  40,000/.,  and  upwards,  before  any 
advertisements  appeared. 

“ When  this  large  sum  had  been  raised,  he  considered 
it  necessary  that  a powerful  Committee  should  head  the 
appeal  to  the  Nation.  It  was  formed.  It  consisted  of 
a great  array  of  nobles,  politicians  of  various  parties, 
dignitaries  of  the  Church,  and  eminent  men.  Greswell 
himself  appeared  merely  as  a subscriber;  no  allusion 
was  made  to  his  exertions  ; and  the  world  knew  nothing 
more  about  him.  The  subscription  was  thenceforward 
increased  by  public  advertisement.  It  was  completely 
successful.  It  rolled  on  from  50,000/.  to  100,000/. ; 
then  to  150,000/.  At  last  it  reached  a quarter  of  a 
million.  How  much  more,  I know  not. 

“ The  effect  of  the  Movement  thus  initiated  by  one 
humble  member  of  the  Church  of  England  was  mo- 
mentous. The  great  funds  thus  collected  were  applied 
in  aid  of  the  Educational  exertions  of  the  Church.  I 
believe  they  were  distributed  through  the  medium  of 
the  ‘ National  Society  for  the  Education  of  the  poor  in  the 
principles  of  the  Established  Chur  chi  — which  suddenly 
found  itself  in  the  possession  of  great  funds,  or  aided 
by  them.  Thus,  Church  Education  received  a prodigious 
stimulus.  The  Church  of  England  was  at  once  enabled 
to  come  forward  with  great  sums  in  addition  to  all 
previous  subscriptions  and  local  aids,  which  fully  cor- 
responded with  her  needs,  and  made  her  an  applicant 
on  a vast  scale  for  the  educational  subsidies  of  the  State. 
In  the  course  of  a very  few  years,  between  the  great 
central  fund  which  had  been  raised,  the  local  exertions 
stimulated  by  grants  from  it,  and  the  government  aid, 
a million^  or  a million  and-a-half^  of  money  was  expended 


1843]  The  Faithful  Steward.  109 

071  Church  Schools,  and  an  enormous  increase  in  the 
Church  Educational  System  took  place.  Mr.  Greswell 
beheld  with  gratitude  the  immense  results  of  his  well- 
directed  exertions, — carried  out  and  perfected  by  thou- 
sands and  tens  of  thousands  who  had  never  heard  his 
name.  Satisfied  with  the  result,  he  never  again  alluded 
to  the  impulse  he  had  given  to  the  Church’s  cause ; and 
when  reminded  of  it  in  after  years  by  the  friend  who 
had  witnessed  his  exertions,  he  showed  himself  disin- 
clined to  speak  on  the  subject. 

“ There  was  one  result  which  had  not  been  anticipated. 
The  Church,  by  this  great  efibrt,  was  enabled  to  distance 
all  competition.  The  opponents  of  Eeligion,  and  the 
leaders  of  political  Dissent,  were  alike  taken  by  surprise. 
They  endeavoured,  but  in  vain,  to  raise  funds  of . cor- 
responding magnitude.  Their  efforts  bore  no  proportion 
to  those  of  the  Church  of  England.  In  the  course  of  a 
few  years,  when  the  result  came  to  be  perceived,  they 
became  loud  in  their  complaints  that  the  Church  had 
obtained  nine-tenths  of  the  Government  Education 
grants, — that  the  Education  Act  had  merely  gone  to 
increase  the  inffuence  of  the  Established  Church.  Their 
complaints  showed, — either  that  the  Church  was  far 
more  liberally  inclined  than  its  opponents  ; — or  else  that 
its  members  must  be  vastly  more  numerous.  Either 
way,  the  facts  of  the  case  were  unfavourable  to  the 
opponents  of  the  Church  of  England.  Nevertheless,  by 
dint  of  agitation  and  complaint,  the  Secularists  and 
Voluntaries  at  length  succeeded  in  forcing  upon  the 
Government  what  was  intended  to  be  fatal  to  Church 
of  England  Education,  but  which  resulted  in  the  ‘ School 
Board  ’ system,  which  still  left  the  Schools  of  the  Church 
in  receipt  of  Government  subsidies.  Even  this  mea- 
sure, which  gave  ‘ School  Boards  ’ the  power  of  taxing 
the  people,  with  the  object  of  excluding  Eeligion 
from  Schools,  has  not  as  yet  been  able  to  subvert 
the  great  work  achieved  by  Eichard  Greswell.  The 
Church  still  educates  above  half  of  the  rising  genera- 
tion ; nor  have  her  efforts  been  lessened  amidst  all 
the  discouragements  and  difficulties  experienced  from 


Richard  Greswell  : 


I lO 


[1847 


the  action  of  the  Temporal  Government  on  many  oc- 
casions.” 


So  far,  my  friend  the  Rev.  William  Palmer.^  I shall  not 
be  blamed  for  having  exhibited  his  interesting  narrative 
without  either  abridgment  or  mutilation.  The  foregoing 
statement  of  unknown  or  forgotten  facts  will  be  recog- 
nised as  an  important  Ecclesiastical  document  when 
the  time  shall  come  for  writing  the  recent  History  of 
the  Church  of  England. 


Next  to  refounding  the  ‘ National  Society  ’ (^for  Pro- 
moting the  Pdiicatio7i  of  the  Poor  in  the  Princijoles  of  the 
EstalUshed  Church,') — 

“ Probably  the  two  most  important  public  matters  in 
which  Mr.  Greswell  took  part,  were  the  establishment  of 
the  ‘New  Museum’  at  Oxford,  (of  which  he  was  almost 
the  founder,  though  it  afterwards  passed  into  other 
hands) ; and  the  first  election  of  Mr.  Gladstone  to  repre- 
sent the  University. 

“In  1847,”  (proceeds  my  correspondent,^)  “you  were 
stiU  a B.A. ; but  you  must  remember  how  unpromising 
Mr.  Gladstone’s  Committee  appeared  at  first  sight,  con- 
sisting almost  entirely  of  junior  M.A.^s,  without  a single 
dignitary  to  give  us  either  moral  or  ornamental  support. 
I think  Richard  Greswell  was  the  only  B.D.  among  us, 
(for  James  Mozley  at  that  time  was  but  M.A.,  I believe), 
and  I was  the  only  Doctor.  However,  by  zeal  and  hard 
work  the  election  was  won ; and  then,  at  the  last  moment. 


® This  truly  great  Divine, — whose 
precious  writings  have  so  largely 
benefited  our  Church,  and  left  an 
indelible  impress  on  her  history, 
— was  born  on  the  14th  February, 
1803,  and  entered  into  rest  on  the 
7th  Sept.  1885, — aged  82  years  and 
7 months.  He  sleeps  in  the  Church- 
yard of  Sandford  near  Oxford,  be- 


side one  whose  dying  request  it  was 
that  she  should  be  described  on  the 
memorial  stone  which  marks  her 
resting-place,  as — “ Mother  to  the 
Rev.  William  Palmer.'' 

^ W.  A.  Greenhill,M.D.,  (formerly 
of  Oxford,)  writing  from  Hastings, 
Aug.  9,  1881.  I am  indebted  to  this 
friend  for  many  valuable  notices. 


1847]  The  Faithful  Steward.  hi 

another  person  (the  Rector  of  Exeter  College)  formally 
proposed  Mr.  Gladstone  in  the  theatre.  I was  sorry  that 
our  friend  had  not  the  honour  of  doing  this,  as  he  had 
been  the  active  Chairman  throughout,  and  it  was  at  his 
house  in  Beaumont  Street  ^ that  the  meetings  of  the 
Committee  had  been  held.  When  Mr.  Gladstone  came 
to  Oxford  after  the  election,  he  was  not  received  at  his 
own  College,  but  stayed  with  Richard  Greswell, — who 
invited  his  triumphant  working  Committee  to  meet  him 
at  dinner.  Of  that  dinner-party  I think  I must  be 
almost  the  only  survivor.” 

Yes,  every  Oxford  resident  of  sufficient  standing  must 
preserve  a lively  recollection  of  Greswell’s  enthusiasm  on 
behalf  of  Mr.  Gladstone, — whom,  by  the  way,  with  the 
politeness  of  a past  generation,  he  never  mentioned  with- 
out prefixing  ‘Mr.’  to  his  name.  The  cause  amounted  in 
Greswell  to  a passion.  He  retained  the  Chairmanship 
of  his  Oxford  Committee  until  the  member  for  Oxford 
University  forsook  his  principles  and  reversed  his  policy. 
And  though,  in  the  final  contest  of  1865,  Greswell 
resigned  his  prominent  post,  he  never  withdrew  from  his 
friend  his  support ; nor  his  confidence,  until  he  'saw  him 
leagued  with  the  enemies  of  the  Church, — an  entirely 
altered  man.  What  would  Richard  Greswell  have  said 
had  he  lived  to  see  the  same  statesman  in  close  alliance 
with  the  enemies  of  Law  and  social  Order  ? leagued  with 
a faction  whose  avowed  object  is  the  disintegration  of 
the  British  Empire  ? . . . But  we  must  now  turn  our  eyes 
in  a different  direction. 

“ The  parish  of  Denton-cum-Haughton  ” (writes  Cle- 
ment Greswell),  “ nostrae  mcunahula  gefitis^  was,  when  my 
Father  entered  on  the  incumbency,  one  of  the  rudest 
and  most  uncivilised  in  that  part  of  England.  It  was 
bestowed  upon  him  by  the  patron,  the  then  Lord  Grey 


^ No.  21, — now  numbered  ‘ 24.’ 


112  Richard  Greswell  : [1849 

de  Wilton,  in  whose  household  my  Father  had  held  the 
office  of  Tutor  to  his  only  Son.  This  pupil  of  his^  a 
most  promising  boy,  died  at  a very  early  age.  In  my 
Father’s  time  the  living  was  only  a perpetual  Curacy. 
When  he  commenced  his  ministry  it  was  worth,  I believe, 
only  50/.  per  annum.” 

The  Rev.  William  Parr  Greswell  found  Denton  Chapel 
most  inconveniently  pervious  to  the  elements, — the  wind 
having  freely  displaced  the  slates  from  the  roof.  The 
consequence  was,  that  throughout  the  winter  vast  accu- 
mulations of  snow  in  “ the  cockloft  ” used  to  bring  the 
ceiling  down  upon  the  heads  of  the  wondering  congrega- 
tion in  time  of  thaw.  Corn  might  have  been  winnowed 
within  the  sacred  edifice, — so  freely  did  the  winds  of 
heaven  find  ingress.  The  incumbent,  with  a zeal  worthy 
of  better  days,  removed  the  horizontal  ceiling,  (rightly 
judging  that  it  could  not  have  formed  part  of  the  original 
design),  and  set  about  encasing  the  old  walls, — externally 
with  cement  ; internally,  with  lath-and-plaster.  The 
vibration  caused  by  these  primitive  attempts  at  Church 
restoration,  caused  the  disengagement  of  sundry  coats 
of  white-wash ; whereby,  to  the  astonishment  of  the 
natives,  was  revealed  the  entire  history  of  Lazarus  and 
Lives  on  the  walls. ^ . . . The  reader  is  reminded  that  he 
is  listening  to  a retrospect  of  at  least  90  years,  for  these 
events  belong  to  the  last  decade  of  the  former  century. 
William  Parr  Greswell,  the  first  resident  incumbent  at 
Denton,  educated  the  sons  of  most  of  the  neighbouring 
gentry : possessed  a remarkable  library ; and  was  only 
gathered  to  his  fathers  at  the  age  of  89,  in  1854. 

In  1 849,  the  united  Townships  of  Denton  and  Haugh- 
ton,  which  from  time  immemorial  had  been  an  important 

^ ‘Historical  Records  of  Denton  and  Haughton,' — by  Samuel  Hadfield, 
[1855],  (i2mo.  pp.  16). 


1850]  The  Faithful  Steward.  113 

centre  of  the  felt  and  beaver-hat  manufacture, — were 
reduced  to  a state  of  ruin  by  the  invention  of  the  silk 
hat.  This  revolution  in  taste  (for  silk  hats  were  gener- 
ally adopted)  was  the  cause  that  upwards  of  a thousand 
families  were  suddenly  deprived  of  their  means  of  sub- 
sistence.^ With  a population  of  8000,  there  was  but 
Church  accommodation  for  300  persons, — no  part  of 
which  was  free  and  unappropriated.  To  secure  for  this 
forlorn  district  an  additional  Church,  Schools,  and  a 
second  resident  Clergyman,  Richard  Greswell  made  stren- 
uous exertions  ; nor  did  he  rest  until  he  had  achieved 
his  holy  purpose. 

“The  parishes”  (wrote  his  brother  Clement  in  1881) 
“ now  constitute  two  separate  and  independent  rectories, 
S.  Lawrence  and  Christ  Church  respectively : the  first, 
worth  upwards  of  300/. ; the  other,  %^ol.  My  father  was 
able,  through  the  influence  of  friends,  to  get  an  increase 
of  the  living  from  Queen  Anne’s  Bounty,  but  the  great 
benefactor  to  the  parish  was  my  brother  Richard  him- 
self. It  was  by  his  exertions  chiefly  that  the  new 
Church,  styled  Christ  Church,  was  built  and  provided 
with  a parsonage.  Schools,  and  an  endowment  such  as  I 
have  mentioned.  The  original  Church,  (or  rather  Chapel, 
as  it  was  styled,)  of  S.  Lawrence,  is  a great  curiosity, 
being  a remarkable  specimen  of  the  black-and-white 
striped  style  of  building  not  uncommon  in  the  counties 
of  Chester  and  Lancaster.^  Under  Richard’s  auspices 
this  too  was  restored  and  considerably  enlarged  to  meet 
the  requirements  of  an  increased  population,  without 


^ “ The  felt-hat  trade  reached  its 
greatest  prosperity  about  the  year 
1840,  when  not  less  than  24000 
were  manufactured  weekly  in  Den- 
ton and  Haughton.” — A minute  and 
curious  account  of  the  hat  manu- 
facture is  given  at  pp.  10-13  of 
Booker’s  work  cited  in  the  next 
ensuing  note  (5). 

VOL.  II. 


® See  the  frontispiece  to  the  Rev. 
John  Booker’s  'History  of  the  an- 
cient Chapel  of  Denton  in  Man- 
chester Parish,' — printed  for  the 
Cheetham  Society,  1855,  (pp.  146). 
The  account  of  the  Chapel  is  at  pp. 
41-62  : — of  W.  Parr  Greswell,  at 
p.  109  : — of  Richard  Greswell,  at  p. 
124.  - , 


I 


1 14  Richard  G reswell:  [1850 

atfecting  or  destroying  the  peculiar  style  of  its  architec- 
ture. He  built  also  a Rectory  for  the  incumbent  of  this 
portion  of  the  original  parish, — endeared  to  himself  by 
his  Father’s  incumbency  of  S.  Lawrence  since  1791.  I 
cannot  specify  how  much  of  the  money  required  for 
these  expensive  improvements  he  drew  from  his  own 
private  means,  but  the  sum  was  certainly  very  con- 
siderable. Indeed,  I think  I may  say  that  he  devoted 
all  the  income  of  his  Fellowship  and  College  offices  to 
these  and  similar  pious  and  charitable  undertakings.” 

From  a printed  correspondence  which  lies  before  me, 
it  appears  that  the  date  of  the  many  good  works  above 
referred  to,  was  1849-50. 

Enough  has  been  said  to  show  that  it  was  quite  a 
mistake  when  a local  paper,  (in  an  otherwise  correct 
notice  of  Richard  Gres  well),  described  his  Father  as  a man 
“ possessed  of  large  private  means.”  From  that  learned 
Father, — the  incumbent  of  a very  poor  perpetual  curacy, 
with  a family  of  seven  sons  and  two  daughters, — it  is 
needless  to  remark  that  Richard  inherited  absolutely 
nothing ; except,  indeed,  an  unblemished  name  (surely, 
a priceless  inheritance !)  and  the  purest  traditions  of  a 
virtuous  northern  home.  But  in  truth  he  was  through- 
out life  singularly  unselfish  in  money  matters.  What- 
ever came  to  him  by  inheritance  or  bequest  from  his 
own, — as  distinct  from  his  wife’s  relations, — he  invariably 
handed  over  to  such  of  his  brothers  as  had  larger  families 
than  himself;  a very  ‘ Prpculeius,’  in  the  character  of 
his  generosity.  It  is  right  to  state  that  his  brother 
Edward  shared  his  spirit  and  disposition  in  this  respect. 

The  erection  of  Denton  church,  of  which  Sir  Gilbert 
Scott  was  the  architect,  was  quite  an  event  in  that 
district  of  Lancashire, — being  the  first  really  ecclesias- 
tical-looking edifice  which  had  been  seen  in  that  part  of 


1824]  The  Faithful  Steward.  115 

England.  Richard  Greswell  was  its  true  founder.  But, 
administering  largely,  as  has  been  described,  to  the 
spiritual  wants  of  the  place  of  his  birth,  was  only  one  of 
the  many  outlets  for  his  benevolence. 

Mr.  Greswell  was  one  of  the  founders  of  the  ^Ashmolean 
Club'  and  ^ As/imolean  Society,'  The  subject  is  merely  of 
local  interest ; yet,  as  illustrating  Oxford  life  in  the 
earlier  part  of  the  present  century,  the  following  record 
(contributed  by  a learned  friend)  seems  to  be  worth  pre- 
serving : — 

“I  think  it  was  in  1824,  that,  a discussion  having 
arisen  among  the  few  men  in  Oxford  who  at  that  time 
cared  for  Natural  History, — as  to  whether  Sand-Martins 
burrow  in  the  winter  and  hybernate,  or  whether  they 
migrate, — a small  party  was  organized . one  winter’s  day 
to  walk  to  Cumnor,  in  order  to  explore  a sand-pit,  (now 
I believe  covered,)  which  used  to  be  a notorious  haunt 
of  Sand-Martins.  It  lay  between  Cumnor  village  and 
the  firs  on  the  top  of  the  down,  called  ‘ Cumnor  Hurst.’ 
In  this  party  was  Dr.  Kidd,  Dr.  Daubeny,  and  (I  think) 
Clutterbuck — late  of  Long  Wittenham,  then  an  under- 
graduate.® The  Naturalists  dug  : found  no  Sand-Mar- 
tins in  the  warren  ; and  returned,  convinced  of  the  truth 
of  the  migration  theory.  Being  late  for  Hall, — (dinner 
in  those  days  was  at  4 p.m.), — they  repaired  to  a coffee- 
house looking  down  Broad  Street,  at  the  corner  of  Holy- 
well, — the  interesting  structure,  designed  by  Vanburgh, 
which  has  been  recently  demolished  to  make  way  for  the 
Mndian  Institute!  The  evening  passed  so  pleasantly  that 
it  was  determined  to  repeat  the  supper  once  a Term,  and 
to  connect  it  somehow  with  Natural  Science.  Supper 
was  soon  exchanged  for  dinner  at  one  another’s  rooms, 
once — and  ultimately  three  times — a Term.  The  ‘ scien- 
tific ’ men  in  Oxford  could  at  that  period  be  counted  on 
your  fingers.  Their  studies  lay  apart  from  the  curriculum 
of  the  University.  They  were  regarded  somewhat  as 

The  name  of  this  friend  will  recur  in  the  Memoir  of  Bp.  Jacobson. 


ii6  Richard  Greswell  : [1850 

(Vildtanti,  and  kept  their  ‘ Science’  to  themselves.  Richard 
Greswell  (though  not  one  of  the  original  sand-martin 
hunters)  was  early  asked  to  join ; and  he  remained  a 
member  of  the  Club  to  his  life’s  end.  (Only  one  other 
such  Club  then  existed  in  Oxford, — a very  small  one, — 
of  College  Tutors,  who  dined  together  once  a month,  to 
confer  about  educational  work).  Owing  to  the  fact  that 
the  scientific  Professors  were  few,  some  members  of  the 
Club  wmre  elected  on  account  of  their  great  eminence 
and  sympathy  with  scientific  inquiries,  without  being 
specially  employed  on  these  subjects.  Greswell  was  in 
fact  one  of  these  outsiders  (as  it  were) ; but  it  need 
hardly  be  remarked  that  such  men  imparted  to  the  Club 
(as  they  did  to  Oxford  generally)  that  largeness  of  cul- 
ture and  breadth  of  sympathy  with  various  branches  of 
knowledge  which  characterised  the  graduates  of  that 
time  who  read  for  double  honours.  This  is  necessarily 
disappearing  as  knowledge  becomes  specialized,  and 
originality  of  mind  is  exercised  in  tracking  old  principles 
into  new  applications,  instead  of  employing  itself  in 
ascending  to  large  generalities.  Greswell’s  sympathy 
was  wide  and  his  reading  great.  But  he  showed  no 
tolerance  towards  such  new  theories  as  those  of  Dar- 
win ; which  trespass  either  on  the  sphere  of  Revelation, 
or  on  the  principles  of  Natural  Religion  and  spiritual 
existence. 

“ The  foregoing  remarks  only  touch  a few  superficial 
points  of  Greswell’s  character.  They  have  no  reference 
to  that  which  gained  him  general  respect  even  from 
opponents, — his  entire  conscientiousness ; his  unfailing 
generosity  ; his  grand  spirit  of  self-sacrifice ; that 
courteous  kindliness  which  never  forsook  him  to  the 
last.’ 

In  conferring  great  public  benefits  he  was  observed 
through  his  life  to  find  his  own  especial  gratification. 
He  made  at  his  private  expense  the  handsome  walk  and 
avenue  of  trees  which  now  encircles  ‘ Port  Meadow.’  But 

From  Canon  Farrar,  D.D.,  Professor  of  Divinity  in  the  University  of 
Durham. 


1865]  The  Faithful  Steward.  117 

he  did  more  than  plant,  and  beautify,  and  girdle  round 
with  walks.  In  the  first  instance,  he  drained  ‘ Port 
Meadow,’ — which  henceforth,  instead  of  being  wet  and 
swampy  for  nine  months  in  the  year,  and  dry  for  three, 
became  perfectly  firm  and  dry  for  nine  months  (from  the 
end  of  March,  namely,  until  the  end  of  December),  and 
probably  wet  (because  liable  to  be  flooded)  for  the  other 
three  months  of  the  year.  Thus,  by  an  outlay  of  550/.,  he 
materially  increased  the  salubrity  of  that  part  of  Oxford, 
as  well  as  added  largely  to  the  value  of  those  400 
reclaimed  acres.  These  improvements  were  effected  in 
1865.  It  should  be  added, — though  I am  sorry  to  write 
down  so  heavy  an  indictment,  — that  his  work  was 
regarded  with  apathy  or  indifference  by  those  whom  it 
was  chiefly  designed  to  benefit. 

While  on  this  subject,  let  room  be  found  for  the  record 
of  Greswell’s  burning  interest  in  promoting  the  ‘ Central 
African  Mission^  and  the  schemes  for  putting  down  the 
slave  trade  on  the  Eastern  coast  of  Africa.  “He  was 
always''  (writes  a common  friend^)  “occupied  in  some  im- 
portant undertaking  for  the  public  good.”  His  private 
charities  also  were  really  countless,  and  (like  all  who 
have  studied  in  the  same  Divine  school  with  himself,) 
he  rejoiced  supremely  in  doing  such  acts  in  secret.  One 
of  those  lesser  acts  of  munificence  has  only  lately,  quite 
by  accident,  come  to  my  knowledge  ; which  I will  here 
set  down. 

A graduate  of  Worcester  College, — (a  young  man  of 
small  means,  who  had  been  toiling  on  behalf  of  the 
most  sacred  of  home  ties,) — was  at  last  tempted  to 
exchange  his  work  in  Oxford  for  a position  elsewhere, — 
which  however  involved  considerable  pecuniary  risk. 


® The  Rev.  Rowland  Muckleston.  See  above,  pp.  83,  90,  &c. 


ii8  Richard  Greswell:  [1843 

The  circumstances  of  the  case  were  neither  unknown  to 
Greswell,  nor  unappreciated  by  him, — as  the  following 
note  which  reached  the  young  man’s  hands  in  the  very 
nick  of  time,  sufficiently  proves  : 

“Dear  Mr. , Will  you  accept  from  me  the 

accompaning  cheque  for  100/.  to  aid  you  in  your  pro- 
posed undertaking?  Your  sincere  friend, 

“Richard  Greswell.” 

It  remains  to  sketch  in  outline  the  very  beautiful 
character  of  the  man,  concerning  whom  so  many  details 
have  been  narrated.  And  were  a hundred  persons 
invited  to  do  this,  it  is  thought  that  not  one  would  omit 
to  specify  his  childlike  simplicity  and  guilelessness  of 
character.  It  was,  in  fact,  the  first,  if  not  the  last  thing 
which  struck  those  who  had  frequent  intercourse  with 
him.  The  friend  quoted  at  foot  of  p.  117,  who  had  also 
been  Greswell’s  pupil,  writes, — “ His  chief  characteristics 
were  great  and  varied  learning,  boundless  benevolence, 
and  a childlike  simplicity.  His  great  erudition, — if  the 
truth  must  be  told, — was  sometimes  even  an  impedi- 
ment to  the  efficiency  of  his  lectures.”  ....  All  will  re- 
member his  shy,  nervous  manner.  In  my  undergraduate 
days  [1843-5],  he  good-naturedly  lodged  me,  by  assigning 
to  me  the  two  rooms  in  the  rear  of  his  own  lecture- 
room, — viz.  the  three  windows  in  the  centre  of  the  new 
buildings,  first  floor.  One  night,  he  entered  my  quarters 
with  the  benevolent  intention  of  instructing  me  how 
I might  obtain  the  deputy-librarian  ship  of  the  College  ; 
but  I never  saw  his  face.  Looking  intently  at  the  books 
on  my  shelves,  (which  he  kept  stabbing  with  his  fore- 
finger),— speaking  in  a tremulous  voice,  and  resolutely 
turning  his  back  upon  me, — he  did  me  what  really  was 
a considerable  favour  with  as  much  hesitation  and 


1845]  The  Faithful  Steward.  119 

apparent  distress  as  if  he  had  come  to  me  as  a suppliant 
and  was  going  away  disappointed.  “ I want  you  to 
come  and  meet  OldJielcP  at  breakfast  to-morrow  morn- 
ing,''— (so  ran  the  monologue,  the  words  in  italics  being 
considerably  emphasized,)  — “ and  you  must  talk  to  him 
about  books,  and  about  Authors,  as  you  did  about  Lord 
Bacon  and  the  Elizabethan  poets,  when  you  dined  with 
us  yesterday^'  &c.  &c.  &c.  . . . He  was  the  sincerest  of 
characters.  “For  myself,” — (writes  the  eminent  Divine 
already  largely  quoted,  between  whom  and  Richard 
Greswell  subsisted  the  closest  intimacy),^ — 

“ I lose  in  him  the  most  steadfast  of  friends  ; the  most 
patient,  the  most  true,  the  most  just : a man  who  has 
entered  into  all  my  thoughts  and  actions  for  fifty-four 
years! — more  than  any  other  man,  who  was  bound  to 
me  by  the  affection  which  began  with  my  admirable 
Mother,  and  was  transferred  to  unworthy  me.”^ 

Similar  expressions  of  ardent  personal  love  and  ad- 
miration are  found  in  every  one  of  the  many  letters 
which  his  death  has  elicited,  and  caused  to  be  sent  me. 
But  every  one  bears  emphatic  tribute  also  to  his  great 
erudition,  his  intellectual  power,  his  vast  attainments. 
He  was  exceedingly  modest,  notwithstanding,  and  diffi- 
dent of  himself  to  a fault.  His  simple,  child-like  piety 
(resembling  that  of  Dr.  Cotton,  Provost  of  Worcester,) 
impressed  us  as  undergraduates  deeply.  It  was  more 
persuasive  than  any  homily, — more  useful  than  a thou- 
sand precepts.  Both  men  were  always  to  be  seen  in 
their  places  in  the  College  Chapel ; and  on  Sundays 
their  familiar  forms  were  never  missing  at  S.  Mary’s. 

Richard  Greswell  was  not  an  author,  like  his  brothers 

® Edmund  Oldfield,  esq.,  Fellow  ^ Eev.  William  Palmer.  See  pp. 
and  Librarian  of  Worcester  Col-  loi-io,  supra. 
lege.  ^ See  above, — p.  no,  note  (9). 


120  Richard  Greswell:  [i88i 

William  and  Edward.  ^ With  the  exception  of  a paper 
‘ On  Education  in  the  EnnciRles  of  Art  I read  before  the 
Ashmolean  Society,  December  4th,  1 843  (pp.  32),  and  a 
‘ Memorial  on  the  (^proposedi)  Oxford  University  Lecture- 
rooms^  Library^  Museums^  ^c.  (May,  1853,  pp.  20),  he  is 
not  known  to  have  published  anything  ; though  he  may 
well  have  been  an  occasional  contributor  to  Church 
Reviews.  There  also  lies  before  me  a very  interesting 
Speech  of  his  (partly  delivered)  at  a public  meeting 
in  Manchester,  (May  23rd,  i860),  in  behalf  of  the  Uni- 
versities’ Mission  to  Central  Africa  (pp.  16).  Richard 
Greswell’s  ‘ Works'  however  will  assuredly  outlast  the 

productions  of  many  a more  prolific  brain Neither 

did  he,  at  any  time  of  his  life,  hold  a cure  of  souls.  I 
never  heard  him  preach.  I cannot  even  imagine  him  in 
the  pulpit,  so  painfully  nervous  would  he  have  been. 
But  where  is  the  preacher  who  has  more  faithfully 
published  the  Gospel,  or  more  effectually  illustrated  its 
Beatitudes  in  his  daily  life  ? 


He  removed  in  1854  from  Beaumont  street  to  S.  Giles’s 
(No.  39), — and  there  passed  the  remainder  of  his  life.  It 
was  in  that  house  that  he  died.  His  declining  years 
were  watched  over, — nursed  rather, — with  affectionate 
assiduity  by  his  two  daughters,  whose  education  he  had 
himself  superintended,  and  of  whose  attainments  and 
graces  he  was  not  without  reason  proud.  The  elder  is  in 


^ William  wrote  (1836)  a ‘ Com- 
mentary on  the  Burial  Service,'  in 
two  vols. ; also  a work  on  the  ‘ Mo- 
saic Ritual.' — Edward  published 
(1834)  an  ‘Exposition  of  the  Para- 
bles,' in  five  vols. : ‘ Harmonia  Evan- 
gelica  : ' ‘ Dissertations  on  the  Prin- 
ciples, (f:c.,  of  a Harmony,'  in  four 
vols. : ‘ Fasti  Catholici  et  Origines 


Kalendariae  :'  ‘ Origines  Kalenda- 
riae  Italicae : ' ‘ Three  Witnesses  and 
Threefold  Cord ; a Reply  to  Co- 
lenso  ; ' and  other  learned  works. 
He  declined  the  presidentship  of 
Corpus  in  order  to  devote  himself 
exclusively  to  his  literary  labours  ; 
and  sleeps  in  the  College  cloister. — 
See  above,  p.  94,  note  (2). 


i88i]  2' HE  Faithful  Steward.  12  i 

fact  one  of  England’s  learned  ladies,  being  an  excellent 
Greek  and  Hebrew  scholar.  Many  a time  has  her  father 
told  me  with  honest  joy  which  book  of  the  iEneid,  or  of  the 
Iliad,  ‘Julia  had  finished  that  morning.’  In  1873,  Miss 
Joana  Julia  Greswell  published  a ‘ Grammatical  J?ialysisof 
the  Hebrew  'Psalter'  which  has  been  much  commended 
by  learned  men.  Dr.  Pusey  praised  it.  Helen  Margaret, 
her  sister,  was  Mr.  Greswell’s  only  other  child. 

Full  of  years  and  of  good  works,  and  sustained  to  the 
last  by  an  unclouded  hope, — though  his  powers  of  mind 
greatly  failed  him  during  his  latest  years, — Richard 
Greswell  entered  into  rest,  as  one  falling  asleep,  on  his 
birthday, — (22nd  July,  1881), — having  fulfilled  exactly 
eighty-one  years.  He  rests  in  the  same  grave  with  his 
wife,  in  the  churchyard  of  S.  Mary  Magdalene,  Oxford, 
within  a few  paces  of  the  Martyrs’  Memorial.  Of  himself, 
the  abiding  memorials  in  Oxford  are  many ; memorials, 
which  will  keep  his  memory  fresh  and  green  for  many 
a long  year  amid  the  scenes  with  which  he  was  so 
familiar,  and  which  he  himself  loved  so  well.  But  his 
grandest  monument, — the  monument  which  will  outlive 
every  other, — is  the  service  he  rendered  to  the  cause  of 
the  Christian  Pducation  of  Christ's  Poor.  ...  If  there 
ever  was  a “faithful  Steward”  of  his  opportunities  of 
service,  that  man  was  Richaed  Gkeswell. 


(vni). HENRY  OCTAVIUS  GONE: 


THE  LAEGE-EEARTEH  LIBRARIAN. 

(A.D.  1811—1881.) 

That  was  a precious  link  with  the  Oxford  of  the 
past  which  was  severed  by  the  removal  of  the 
Rev.  Henry  Octavius  Coxe,  Bodley’s  Librarian,  and 
Rector  of  Wytham, — who  entered  into  rest  on  Friday,  the 
8th  July  i88i,  when  he  had  very  nearly  accomplished 
his  seventieth  year.  He  was  at  the  time  of  his  death 
perhaps  the  most  generally  known  and  universally 
beloved  character  in  Oxford;  and  may  be  declared  to 
have  carried  with  him  to  his  grave  a larger  amount 
of  hearty  personal  goodwill,  and  sincere  regret,  than  any 
of  his  recent  contemporaries. 

“ Some  there  are  in  every  age  whose  blessed  office  it 
seems  to  be,  rather  to  impart  tone  and  colouring  to  the 
circle  in  which  they  move,  than  to  influence  the  his- 
torical facts  of  their  time.  They  are  to  society  what 
sunshine  is  to  a landscape  or  expression  to  the  human 
face.  Remove  them,  in  thought,  from  the  scene  in 
which  they  play  their  part,  and  the  facts  are  observed 
to  survive  unaltered ; but  that  nameless  grace  which 
beautifies  existence, — that  secret  charm  which  imparts 
to  the  daily  intercourse  all  its  sweetness, — has  fled.” 

The  subject  of  the  ensuing  sketch  aptly  illustrates  the 
truth  of  the  foregoing  remark,  suggested  by  his  character 
to  an  accomplished  gentlewoman  who  knew  him  well  and 


i8ii]  The  Large-hearted  Librarian. 


123 


appreciated  him  greatly.  He  was  pre-eminently  one  of 
the  class  of  men  referred  to. 

The  chief  incidents  in  Mr.  Coxe’s  uneventful  career 
were  faithfully  recorded  in  the  brief  notices  of  him 
which  appeared  in  the  newspapers  immediately  after  his 
decease;  but  those  who  loved  him  best  were  heard  to 
desiderate  a fuller  mention  and  more  detail.  He  was 
born  on  the  20th  September  1811,  in  the  Vicarage  house 
of  Bucklebury,  seven  miles  east  of  Newbury, — in  a 
lovely  part  of  Berkshire  therefore,  and  in  a village  which 
abounds  in  picturesque  historical  associations.  Buckle- 
bury-house,  the  residence  of  Lord  Bolingbroke  at  the 
time  of  his  attainder,  was  frequented  by  Swift  ^ and 
other  wits  of  the  period.  The  village  rejoices  in  an 
ample  common,  and  the  finest  avenue  of  oaks  in  the 
county, — supposed  to  commemorate  Queen  Anne’s  visit 
to  Bucklebury. 

The  Kev.  Bichard  Coxe  [1753-1819], — father  of  Henry 
Octavius, — boasted  descent  from  Protector  Somerset; 
and  inherited  a tradition  that  he  belonged  to  the  same 
family  with  Bichard  Coxe,  bishop  of  Ely  [1554-81]. 
His  son  might  therefore  have  claimed  ‘ founder’s  kin  ’ at 
All  Souls  and  at  Queen’s.  His  immediate  ancestors 
had  resided  for  200  years  at  Ardington  in  Berkshire. 
He  was  Vicar  of  Bucklebury-cum-Marlestone  from  1788 
to  Michaelmas  1818.  An  old  gentleman  who  yet  sur- 
vives in  those  parts,  (son  of  the  Vicar  of  an  adjoining 
parish),  remembers  going  over,  as  a boy,  in  Bichard 

^ “ Mr.  Secretary  [St.  J ohn]  was  a visit  his  hounds  and  knew  all  their 
perfect  gentleman  at  Buckleberry.  names.  He  and  his  lady  saw  me 
He  smoked  tobacco  with  one  or  to  my  chamber,  just  in  the  country 
two  neighbours, — inquired  after  the  fashion.” — ournal  to  Stella,’  (Aug. 
wheat  in  such  a field, — went  to  4,  1711), — Works,  ii.  316. 


124  Henry  Octavius  Coxe : [1825 

Coxe’s  time,  to  witness  ‘ hack-morcling  ’ and  other  similar 
exercises,  at  what  was  called  ‘ Chapel-row  revel.’  The 
neighbouring  gentry  met  at  the  Vicarage,  in  order  to 
accompany  the  Vicar  to  see  the  sport. — Kichard  was 
twice  married.  By  his  second  wife,  Susan,  one  of  the 
five  co-heiresses  of  Holled  Smith,  esq.  of  Normanton 
Hall,  Leicestershire,  he  had  eleven  children,  of  whom  the 
subject  of  the  present  memoir  was  the  youngest, — being 
the  eighth  son  (“Octavius  ”).  Three  of  his  elder  brothers 
died  in  India,  the  eldest,  Holled,  being  the  father  of 
Major-General  Holled  Coxe.  Of  the  rest,  only  Richard 
calls  for  notice.  He  was  a fellow  of  Worcester  College, 
became  Canon  of  Durham  and  Archdeacon  of  Lindis- 
farne,  and  was  the  father  of  the  Rev.  Seymour  Coxe, 
Vicar  of  Stamfordham,  Newcastle-on-Tyne.^  Henry 
Octavius  survived  all  his  brothers  and  sisters. 


He  was  sent  to  Westminster  School,  under  Dr.  Good- 
enough.  The  Rev.  Henry  Bull  of  Lathbury, — who  for  a 
brief  period  was  Second  Master, — remembers  him  as  “ a 
boy  of  good  conduct,  bright  and  popular,  and  keeping 
a good  place  in  the  form.”  He  left  the  school  at  the 
age  of  fourteen  in  order  to  read  with  his  elder  brother, 
the  Rev.  Richard  C.  Coxe,  who  was  at  that  time  a 
Curate  at  Dover.  While  under  that  roof,  he  acquired 
a great  love  for  the  sea  and  for  sea-going  people,  which 
never  forsook  him.  He  would,  long  after,  recount  with 
great  enjoyment  old  stories  of  boatmen  and  smugglers, 
and  cherished  memories  of  rash  expeditions  in  open 
boats.  He  had  learned  to  row  at  Westminster.  But  he 
made  good  proficiency  with  his  books, — for  he  ran  “a  tie  ” 

^ To  whom, — (as  well  as  to  the  bury,) — I am  indebted  for  many  of 
Eev.  T.  W.  Watts,  Vicar  of  Buckle-  these  early  details. 


1832]  The  Large-hearted  Librarian.  125 

with  Bonamy  Price  for  a scholarship  on  first  coming  up 
to  the  University. 

From  his  brother’s  at  Dover  he  proceeded  to  Oxford, — 
matriculated,  Nov.  19,  1829, — and  in  January  of  the 
ensuing  year,  became  a resident  commoner  of  Worcester 
College.  There  he  read  steadily  for  honours,  and  would 
have  obtained  them,  but  for  a severe  fall  (through  a 
trap-door),  which  forced  him  to  abandon  all  hopes  of 
distinction  in  the  class-list.  By  consequence,  Coxe  is 
remembered  by  his  undergraduate  contemporaries  chiefly 
as  a consummate  oarsman.  It  is  related  of  him  that  on 
one  occasion, — (he  was  rowing  No.  7 in  his  College  boat 
the  night  after  it  had  sustained  a bump), — stroke  having 
broken  his  oar  at  starting,  Coxe  took  up  the  stroke,  and 
with  seven  oars  succeeded  in  bumping  in  turn  the  boat 
which  had  bumped  them  on  the  previous  night.  He 
was  eventually  chosen  to  row  in  the  University  eight, 
but  in  that  year  the  race  was  put  off.  To  return,  how- 
ever, from  the  river  to  the  College. 

Those  strong  bookish  instincts  which,  when  fully 
developed,  make  a man  a first-rate  Librarian, — the 
passionate  love  and  solicitude,  the  appreciative  judg- 
ment and  skill,  the  refined  and  scholarlike  taste  and 
tact, — are  apt  at  an  early  period  of  life  to  give  promise 
of  what  is  to  follow.  While  yet  an  undergraduate  of 
Worcester  College,  Mr.  Coxe  received  the  offer  of  work 
in  the  Manuscript  department  of  the  British  Museum. 
This  he  accepted : transferred  himself  in  consequence 
to  London  in  1832,  and  only  took  an  ordinary  pass  at 
Oxford, — graduating  as  B.A.  in  the  following  year.^ 
Singular  to  relate,  the  early  career  of  his  elder  son, 

3 May  30th,  1833: — M.A.,  May  5th,  1836. 


126  Henry  Octavius  Coxe:  [1832- 

William  Henry,  in  tins  respect  closely  resembled  liis 
own.  (Having  gained  the  Boden  Sanskrit  Scholarship, 
the  young  man  accepted  a place  in  the  Assyrian  depart- 
ment of  the  British  Museum  before  taking  his  degree  at 
Balliol.)  Let  me  however  proceed  in  order. 

In  the  British  Museum  it  was  that  Henry  Octavius 
Coxe  laid  the  foundations  of  that  extensive  and  varied 
acquaintance  with  the  literature  of  Books  which,  for 
many  years  before  his  death,  he  enjoyed  in  perfection ; 
as  well  as  of  that  accurate  palseographical  knowledge 
for  which  he  afterwards  became  so  conspicuous.  Every 
one  has  heard  the  story  of  his  detection  of  certain  of  the 
forgeries  of  Simonides."^  But  it  has  not  fallen  to  the 
lot  of  many  to  carry  to  him  more  than  one  sacred  codex 
with  the  request  that  he  would  assign  its  probable  date. 
The  modesty  with  which  Mr.  Coxe  gave  his  opinion  on 
such  occasions,  and  the  good  nature  with  which  he 
would  sometimes  (if  he  had  before  him  one  who  was 
very  much  in  earnest  in  the  inquiry)  be  at  the  pains 
to  produce  the  considerations  on  which  he  based  his 
judgment, — were  scarcely  more  striking  than  the  skill 
and  curious  knowledge  which  he  displayed.  Certain 
dated  codices  were  immediately  sent  for, — (“  Bring  me 
‘ Canonic!  ’ this  and  ‘ Clarke  ’ that  I ”), — the  characteristic 
forms  of  the  letters  and  style  of  the  writing  were 
minutely  discussed  and  insisted  on ; and  you  were  at 
last  dismissed  with, — “ That’s  why  I shouldn’t  place  it 
higher  than  the  twelfth  century,  my  dear  boy  ! ” (The 
^ dear  hoy'  being  probably — like  himself — a matured  youth 
between  fifty  and  sixty  years  of  age.) 

At  the  close  of  his  six  years’  apprenticeship  at  the 

* See  ^Gentleman's Magazine,'  Oct.  — p.  593 Tlie  incident  referred 

1856, — pp.  440-2  : and  Nov.  1856,  to  belongs  to  Sept.  1853. 


127 


1838]  The  Large-hearted  Librarian. 

British  Museum  (1832-8),  Mr.  Coxe  returned  to  Oxford, 
and  became  associated  as  under-Librarian  with  Dr. 
Bandinel  at  the  Bodleian.  In  the  same  year  (1838)  he 
accepted  the  curacy  of  Culham ; and  in  the  April  of  the 
ensuing  year,  married  Charlotte  Esther,  second  daughter 
of  General  Sir  Hilgrove  Turner,  private  secretary  to 
George  IV,  and  sometime  Governor  of  Bermuda  and 
Jersey.^  By  this  lady  he  had  five  children,  of  whom 
only  two  survive  (1888), — Hilgrove,  now  vicar  of  Pyrton, 
near  Tetsworth ; and  Susan  Esther,  who  was  married  in 
1870  to  the  Rev.  John  Wordsworth, — eldest  son  of  the 
late  learned  and  pious  Bishop  of  Lincoln.  Coxe’s 
daughter  Susan  is  therefore  the  wife  of  the  present 
Bishop  of  Salisbury.®  Henceforth,  with  a single  short 
break,  Mr.  Coxe  resided  continuously  in  Oxford ; and 
many  years  after  told  his  son  that  “ for  the  first  thirty 
years  of  his  work  in  Bodley,  he  never  took  the  whole  six 
weeks’  holiday  allowed  by  the  Library.”  In  truth,  his 
love  of  the  place  was  so  great  that,  (as  his  daughter 
expresses  it),  “ he  never  was  happy  away  from  it.” 
Parochial  work  in  the  meantime  amounted  to  a passion 
with  him ; and  the  interchange  of  occupation  which 
a Curacy  afibrds,  supplied  him  all  his  life  with  ample 
variety,  as  well  as  enjoyment  of  the  purest  and  most 
congenial  kind. 

Culham,  however,  was  by  no  means  Mr.  Coxe’s  first 
introduction  to  pastoral  work.  While  in  London,  he  had 
been  for  two  years  Curate  to  his  brother  Richard  at 
Archbishop  Tenison’s  Chapel.  — “ On  resigning  this 

® He  was  a man  of  considerable  dalen[i84i-4]andCbarlotteFrances 
learning  in  antiquities:  brought  the  [1844-55])  sleep  in  the  Churchyard 
Rosetta  stone  from  Egypt ; and  was  of  S,  Mary  Magdalene,  Oxford, 
keeper  of  the  King’s  prints.  The  son,  mentioned  above,  William 

® His  other  two  daughters  (Mag-  Henry,  is  again  noticed  at  p.  147. 


128  Henry  Octavius  Coxe  : [1848 

Curacy,  he  became  (in  1836)  assistant  Curate  of  S.  Mat- 
thew’s, Spring  Gardens,  of  which  Dr.  Tomlinson  (after- 
wards Bp.  of  Gibraltar)  was  then  the  Incumbent.  A 
large  district  in  the  parish  of  S.  Martin’s-in-the-Fields, 
(of  which,  Sir  Henry  Dukinfield  was  at  that  time  Vicar), 
extending  from  Scotland-yard  to  the  Adelphi, — com- 
prising the  south  side  of  the  Strand,  and  extending  down 
to  the  River, — was  assigned  to  him,  with  a population 
of  3000.  Dark,  narrow  streets,  crowded  and  unhealthy 
courts  and  alleys, (now happily  for  the  most  part  removed), 
which  were  occupied  by  some  of  the  lowest  characters 
in  London, — formed  the  greater  portion  of  this  district. 
And  here  it  was  that,  through  genuine  zeal  for  his 
Master’s  service  and  a sincere  love  of  souls,  he  devoted 
his  evenings,  and  his  spare  time  from  the  manuscript 
room  of  the  British  Museum,  in  visiting  the  occupants 
of  every  house  from  cellar  to  garret ; — at  first,  with 
some  difficulty,  but  ere  long  winning  his  way,  gaining 
confidence,  and  making  a lasting  impression  on  some  of 
the  most  hardened  men  and  women.  These  used  often 
to  speak  of  him  in  grateful  and  affectionate  terms  to  one 
who  is  now  living,  and  who  succeeded  him  in  his  suc- 
cessful work.”  ...  I am  indebted  for  the  foregoing  par- 
ticulars to  the  late  excellent  Canon  John  Richard 
Errington,  Coxe’s  one  dearly  loved  friend  through  life, 
— his  contemporary  and  very  intimate  friend  at  Wor- 
cester College,  as  well  as  his  successor  in  1839  at  Spring 
Gardens’  Chapel.  He  adds, — “ I never  met  with  any  one 
who  combined  so  much  acute  learning,  sound  judgment, 
and  persevering  diligence,  with  so  charming  a manner, 
such  delightful  humour  and  playfulness,  as  H!  0.  C.” 

Having  held  Culham  for  ten  years  (1838-1848),  Mr. 

July  29th  and  Aug,  6th,  i88i. 


129 


i86o]  The  Large-hearted  Librarian. 

Coxe  was  in  succession  Curate  of  Tubney,  where  his 
teaching  was  greatly  appreciated,  for  seven  years  ( 1 84-8- 
1855), — and  of  Yarnton,  for  one  (1855) ; — after  which,  he 
accepted  the  curacy,  and  at  the  end  of  thirteen  years 
(1868)  was  presented  by  the  Earl  of  Abingdon  to  the 
rectory,  of  Wytham,  which  he  held  till  the  period  of  his 
death, — namely,  for  five-and-twenty  years.  He  was 
‘ select  Preacher  ’ before  the  University  in  1842. 

In  the  modest  parsonage  of  Wytham,  Mr.  Coxe  passed 
some  of  his  happiest  hours.  Truly  congenial  to  him 
was  the  care  of  his  little  parish,  and  truly  exemplary 
was  he  in  discharging  the  duties  of  his  cure.  One  of  his 
many  attached  friends  (the  Rev.  John  Rigaud)  writing 
to  me  from  Oxford,  exclaims ; — “ How  often  has  one 
seen  him,— (as  I go  about  the  streets  now,  I think  of  him 
in  this  spot  or  in  that), — hurrying  off  in  the  November 
fog  after  four  o’clock  to  get  on  his  horse,  and  go  to  visit 
the  sick  in  his  little  village!  ” . . . . Yes,  he  rarely  missed 
a day : always  having  some  case  of  sickness  on  hand, — 
in  his  own  parish  or  elsewhere ; and,  as  a rule,  mounting 
his  horse  directly  Bodley  closed.  Every  one  knew  him. 
The  very  Arabs  of  the  gutter  loved  him.  His  kindness 
to  one  such  ragged  urchin, — (the  child  inhabited  a back 
street  near  the  Station,  and  was  without  a friend  in  the 
world),  — procured  for  him  the  street  souhriqnet  of 
“ George’s  man.”  “ Here  comes  George  s man  ! ” shouted 
the  rest,  at  sight  of  the  familiar  figure  of  the  genial 
horseman  on  his  punctual  way  to  Wytham  after  Bodley 
hours.  It  was  just  the  thing  to  delight  Coxe  1 

On  the  death  of  Dr.  Bandinel  in  i860,  Henry  Octavius 
Coxe  became  supreme  in  Bodley ; where  his  greatest 
achievement  was  the  new  general  Catalogue,  (of  which 

VOL.  II.  K 


130  Henry  Octavius  Coxe:  [i860 

two  copies  have  been  constructed),  contained  in  723  folio 
volumes,  and  comprising  all  the  printed  works  in  the 
library,  except  those  in  Hebrew  -and  other  Oriental 
languages.  This  undertaking,  it  took  from  1859  to  1880 
to  complete.  Slips  were  written  in  triplicate  ; of  which 
one  is  mounted  in  either  of  the  two  copies  of  the 
Catalogue,  — the  third  being  reserved  for  the  Subject 
Catalogue  now  in  the  course  of  formation.  The  general 
Catalogue  is  alphabetical,  by  Authors'  names.  . . . But  a 
survey  of  the  enumeration  of  his  Works  which  is  given 
at  foot  of  the  present  page,  ^ will  remind  the  reader 
that  Mr.  Coxe  was  himself  a very  considerable  Author  as 
well  as  Editor.  By  the  way,  the  original  MS.  of  the 
Norman  French  metrical  life  of  the  Black  Prince  (No.  2 


® I.  ‘ Rogeri  de  Wendover  Chro- 
nica, sive  Jlores  historiarum  cum 
appendice.'  Ed.  H.  O.  Coxe,  for 
the  English  Historical  Society.  Five 
Vols.  1841-44.  Lend.,  8vo. 

2.  ^ The  Blade  Prince'  An  His- 
torical Poem,  written  in  French  by 
Chandos  Herald,  with  a Translation 
and  Notes  by  the  Rev.  H.  0.  Coxe, 
— for  the  Roxburghe  Club.  1842. 
Lend.,  4to. 

3.  ‘ Poema  quod  dicitur  Vox  Cln- 
mantis,  necnon  Chronica  tripar- 
tita, auctore  Joanne  Gower,'  nunc 
primum  edidit  H.  0.  Coxe, — for  the 
Roxburghe  Club.  1850.  4to. 

4.  ‘ The  Apocalypse  of  St.  John 
the  Divine.'  Represented  by  figures 
reproduced  in  fac-simile  from  a 
MS.  in  the  Bodleian  Library, — for 
the  Roxburghe  Club.  1876.  4to. 

5.  ^Catalogi  Codicum  Manuscrip- 
torum  Bibliothecae  Bodleianae pars 
prima,  recensionem  Codicum  Grae- 
corum continens,'  Confecit  H.  0. 
Coxe.  Oxon,  1853.  4to. 

6.  ^ Idem:  partis  secundae  fasci- 


culus primus  \_Codicum  Laudiano- 
rum  Latinorum  et  Miscellaneorum 
catalogus'l'  Confecit  H.  0.  Coxe. 
Oxon,  1858.  4to. 

7.  ‘ Idem : pars  tertia.  Codices 
Graecos  et  Latinos  Canonicianos 
complectens'  Confecit  H.  0.  Coxe. 
Oxon,  1854.  4to. 

8.  ‘ Catalogus  Codicum  MSS.  qui 
in  Collegiis  Aulisque  Oxoniensihus 
hodie  adservantur .'  Confecit  H.  0. 
Coxe.  2 Partes.  Oxon,  1852.  4to. 

9.  ‘ Report  to  her  Majesty's  Go- 
vernment on  the  Greek  Manuscripts 
yet  remaining  in  Libraries  of  the 
Levant.'  By  H.  0.  Coxe.  London, 
1858.  8vo. 

10.  ‘Forms  of  Bidding  Prayer, 
with  Introduction  and  Notes'  By 
H.  0.  Coxe.  Oxf.,  1840.  i2mo. 

11.  ‘ Yet  there  is  Room.'  A Ser- 

mon (on  S.  Luke  xiv.  22).  By  H.  O. 
Coxe.  Oxf.,  1873.  8 VO. 

12.  Besides  the  foregoing,  Mr. 
Coxe  produced  several  Reports  for 
the  Curators,  on  subjects  connected 
with  the  Library. 


i86o]  The  Large-hearted  Librarian.  131 

in  the  subjoined  list)  is  preserved  in  the  Library  of 
Worcester  College.^  Its  concluding  lines  constitute  the 
inscription  so  exquisitely  executed  in  bronze  on  the 
Black  Prince’s  tomb  in  Canterbury  Cathedral, — of  which 
inscription  ‘ Chandos  Herald  ’ is  therefore  ascertained  to 
have  been  the  author. 


But  specially  deserving  of  attention  in  the  same  list 
are  Nos.  5 to  8,  which  will  for  ever  remain  a worthy 
monument  of  Mr.  Coxe’s  learning,  scholarship,  and 
literary  ability.  “ His  Catalogues  of  the  MSS.  in  the 
College  Libraries”  (writes  his  son-in-law)  “were  made 
under  great  difficulties.  He  would  begin  at  six  in  the 
morning,  in  cold  rooms,  so  as  not  to  trench  on  Bodley 
hours, — during  which  he  scrupulously  ^abstained  from 
doing  any  of  his  own  work.”  In  connexion  with  this 
statement  it  also  deserves  to  be  recorded  that  “ he  reso- 
lutely adhered  to  his  determination  not  to  become  a 
‘collector,’ — in  order  that  the  Library  might  enjoy  his 


® In  1883  appeared  an  edition  of 
this  Poem  with  an  Engluh  Trans- 
lation and  Notes,  hy  Francisque 
MichelT  “ I have  reconstituted,” 
(says  this  gentleman),  “ a critical 
text  which  I maintain  to  be  exact 
in  form  to  the  original.”  {pref.  p. 
xix.)  There  exists  but  one  passage 
(of  28  lines)  where  the  trustworthi- 
ness of  M.  Michel’s  ‘reconstituted’ 
production  may  be  tested,  viz.  the 
inscription  on  the  Black  Prince’s 
monument  in  Canterbury  Cathedral, 
— which  is  also  recited  in  the  Black 
Prince’s  Will.  The  result  of  colla- 
tion here  is  fatal  to  M.  Michel’s 
contention.  For  * tons’  (in  the  first 
line)  he  invents  ‘vous’;  and  into 
the  second  line  he  thrusts  ‘mien’ 
without  warrant.  The  worst  of  it 
is,  that  he  gives  his  reader  no  in- 


timation where  he  departs  from  the 
MS.  which  he  professes  to  edit. 
Coxe,  on  the  contrary,  made  it  his 
business  to  print  the  poem  verbatim 
and  literatim  as  he  found  it. 

In  M.  Michel’s  ‘Translation,’  some 
few  corrections  appear ; but  he 
omits  to  mention  that, — with  these 
exceptions, — he  has  silently  appro- 
priated the  whole  of  Mr.  Coxe’s 
worTc.  Who  would  believe  that  M. 
Michel  has  further  adopted  the  whole 
of  Mr.  Coxe’s  ‘ Preface  and  Notes’ 
— publishing  them  as  if  they  were 
his  own?  I forbear  to  offer  any 
comment  on  all  this. 

For  whatever  is  interesting  in  the 
present  note,  I am  indebted  to  the 
courtesy  and  intelligence  of  T.  W. 
Jackson,  esq..  Fellow  and  senior 
Tutor  of  Worcester  College. 


K 2 


132  Henry  Octavius  Coke:  [1857 

undivided  solicitude  and  interest.  He  bad  hardly  a 
scarce  or  valuable  book  of  bis  own  purchasing.” 

“ The  only  one  of  bis  books  ” (proceeds  iny  informant) 
“ on  which  I saw  him  myself  at  work  was  the  illuminated 
Xllth  centuiy  Apocalypse  in  Bodley,  which  he  edited  for 
the  Roxburghe  Club  (No.  4).  The  lithographs  were  done 
by  a man  who  w'ent  under  the  name  of  ‘ Harry  Sandars,’ 
and  died  in  Oxford  a short  time  ago,  when  it  was  found 
that  ‘ Sandars  ’ was  not  his  real  name.  Mr.  Coxe,  during 
our  Italian  tour,  made  constant  search  after  MSS.  of  the 
same  kind,  but  found  nothing  really  like  it.  He  used  to 
believe  it  to  be  an  English  book.” — About  No.  9,  a few 
remarks  shall  be  added  in  the  words  of  a contemporary : — 

“ The  best  known  of  Mr.  Coxe’s  labours  is  his  Report 
to  the  Government  on  the  Greek  manuscripts  in  the 
libraries  of  the  Levant,  which  has  just  been  reissued  by 
the  Stationery  office.  Mr.  Coxe  was  despatched  to  the 
East  by  a classical  Chancellor  of  the  Exchequer  (Sir  G. 
C.  L*ewis),  for  the  purpose  of  ascertaining  if  there  were 
any  Greek  manuscripts  in  existence  which  might  promote 
the  study  of  Greek  literature,  and  of  purchasing  those 
which  their  owners  might  be  willing  to  sell.  In  the 
libraries  of  the  patriarchs  at  Cairo  and  Jerusalem  he 
found  about  200  manuscripts,  many  of  which  he  would 
gladly  have  secured ; but  the  heads  of  the  Convents 
would  not  entertain  the  idea  for  a moment.  The  greatest 
treasure  which  he  met  with  was  a copy  of  the  Book 
of  Job,  of  extreme  antiquity,  preserved  in  the  monastery 
of  S.  John  at  Patmos.  Three  of  its  custodians  remained 
with  him  whilst  he  examined  it,  and  ‘ no  money  would 
tempt  them  to  part  with  ’ their  chief  possession.  He  was 
anxious  to  see  the  Seraglio  Library  at  Constantinople, 
but  the  official  routine  was  so  slow  that  the  necessary 
permission  characteristically  arrived  on  the  day  fixed 
for  his  departure.” 

His  work  was  in  the  end  cut  short  by  fever  before 


1857]  The  Large-hearted  Librarian.  133 

he  could  inspect  the  monasteries  of  Mount  Athos  or  of 
Thessaly.  Concerning  the  places  he  visited,  he  has  fur- 
nished us  with  some  interesting  details  in  his  ‘Keport’ 
of  35  pages, — which  well  deserve  perusal.  Mr.  Coxe 
found  the  librarian  of  the  Bodleian  peculiarly  unpopular 
at  St.  John’s  Convent,  Patmos ; from  whose  library  Dr.  E.  D. 
Clarke  [1769-1822]  had  obtained  the  famous  early  dated 
copy  [a.d.  896]  of  Plato’s  dialogues.  “ The  authorities  ” 
(he  relates)  “ were  well  acquainted  with,  and  all  de- 
plored, the  loss  they  had  sustained  in  their  Plato, 
and  know  perfectly  well  where  it  is  now  deposited.” — 
(p-  27-) 

Vastly  different  would  have  been  the  result  of  this 
mission  to  the  Monasteries  of  the  Levant,  had  it  been 
undertaken  thirty  or  forty  years  earlier.  All  honour 
to  the  Chancellor  of  the  Exchequer  who  lent  himself  to 
so  noble  an  endeavour  to  rescue  from  ruin  the  precious 
remains  of  antiquity  which  to  this  hour  must  needs 
be  lying  penhis  in  the  monastic  libraries  of  the  East ! 

Eeturned  to  Oxford,  Mr.  Coxe  devoted  himself  to  the 
duties  of  his  office  with  unflagging  zeal  and  ability.  “I 
never  enter  the  Library (he  once  said  to  a friend) 
“without  looking  at  the  portrait  of  Bodley,” — (the 
portrait  which  faces  you  as  you  go  into  the  ‘ Arts  ’ end 
of  the  Library,  where  the  Catalogue  is), — “ and  resolving 
to  do  nothing  which  would  have  offended  Sir  Thomas.” 
The  proposal  to  convert  the  Bodleian  into  a lending 
Library,  (which  is  sure  to  crop  up  every  now  and  then, 
and  to  find  some  noisy  advocate), — Coxe  always  scorn- 
fully rejected  as  a grievous  wrong  to  the  institution,  a 
violation  of  the  Founder’s  will,  and  sure  to  prove  an 
unmingled  evil.  His  attention  to  visitors,  his  dis- 
criminating kindness  rather,  was  remarkable.  I shall  not 


134 


Henry  Octavius  Coxe: 


[1870 


easily  forget  his  manner  of  exhibiting  some  of  the 
historical  curiosities  of  the  library  to  Miss  Yonge, — nor 
will  that  accomplished  lady  have  forgotten  it  either.  I 
had  the  good  fortune  to  be  standing  by,  and  to  be  per- 
mitted to  join  their  party.  I foresaw  that  he  would  show 
her  some  of  the  choicest  treasures  in  that  matchless 
collection,  and  in  his  choicest  way, — and  so  he  did.  It 
was  a great  treat. 

With  the  officials  of  the  Bodleian,  Coxe  was  thoroughly 
popular.  There  was  in  him  no  affectation  of  dignity.  His 
welcome  to  the  ‘janitor  ’ was  as  cordial  as  to  any  one.  He 
had  no  suspicions  ways : assumed  that  all  beneath  him 
were  doing  what  they  ought,  though  he  could  be  play- 
fully sarcastic  with  them  on  occasion,  if  he  found  any 
off  their  duty.  He  loved  a trusty  man  supremely, — and 
a Christian.  There  was  in  him  a real  power  of  governing 
and  guiding  a great  institution ; his  intellectual  supremacy 
keeping  him  first  in  all  matters  requiring  head-work,  and 
giving  him  a right  to  the  authority  conferred  on  him  by 
his  office.  To  Oxford  men  visiting  the  library  he  was 
simply  delightful.  In  the  words  of  an  ancient  resident  in 
Oxford  (Archdeacon  Palmer) : — “ It  will  not  be  easy  to 
get  so  good  a librarian  as  Coxe,  though  his  successor  may 
grow  to  be  as  good : as  loveable  a librarian  it  is  out  of 
the  question  to  expect.” 

A thoughtful  friend^  remarks  concerning  him  as  fol- 
lows : — 

“ Coxe’s  predecessor.  Dr.  Bandinel,  had  assiduously 
watched  sales  and  studied  catalogues,  English  and 
Foreign  ; and  had  brought  up  the  Library  in  the  matter 
of  printed  books  to  a high  standard.  Coxe,  when  ap- 
pointed Eodley’s  Librarian,  saw  that  two  things  were 
needed : first,  to  make  the  Library  more  accessible ; 


^ Kev.  Canon  A.  S.  Farrar,  D.D. 


iSyo]  The  Large-hearted  Librarian. 


135 


secondly,  to  procure  that  a careful  inventory  should  be 
made,  preparatory  to  a general  Catalogue,  of  all  the 
contents  of  the  Library, — MS.  papers  as  well  as  pamph- 
lets. He  set  himself  to  achieve  these  objects,  and  lived 
to  see  them  nearly  effected.  He  had  often  watched 
hard-working  College  (or  Private)  Tutors  come  to  the 
Bodleian  at  the  end  of  their  day’s  Lectures,  to  use  the 
one  or  two  remaining  hours  while  it  was  open  for  study. 
He  felt  that  a Reading-room  ought  to  be  opened  in  the 
evening  for  the  use  of  such  men  ; and  he  was  the  means 
of  obtaining  the  (then)  ‘ Radcliffe  Library  ’ for  the  pur- 
pose. It  became  the  ^Cmnera^ — which  is  open  till  late 
at  night,  and  whither  printed  books  may  be  conveyed 
from  the  Bodleian  Library,  for  the  use  of  readers,  when 
Bodley  is  closed. 

“ The  second  object  was  also  in  part  effected.  Cata- 
logues were  wholly  or  nearly  completed,  which  enable  a 
student  to  discover  what  materials  the  Library  possesses 
having  reference  to  any  particular  subject. 

“Coxewas  always  working, — over- working.  Yet  he 
always  had  a kindly  temper  in  spite  of  being  bored.  He 
was  in  this  respect  the  ideal  of  a Librarian.  This  was 
chiefly  due  to  his  truly  Christian  spirit  of  charity;  but 
it  was  due  in  part  to  natural  good-temper,  and  that  which 
is  always  its  accompaniment,  (perhaps  its  cause  as  well 
as  its  effect),  a sense  of  humour, — the  power  to  suggest 
and  enjoy  a joke.  On  my  going  to  consult  him  on  some 
literary  point  one  afternoon,  he  sighed  and  said, — ‘My 
dear  Farrar,’ — (he  always  opened  his  vocative  with  ‘my 
dear’  in  this  way,) — ‘I  am  so  tired.  I have  lost  two 
hours  this  morning,  through  a visit  of  old — ’ (a  noted 
archaeologist,  a country  Clergyman,  then  in  Oxford  for 
his  holiday,  and  always  rather  a dilettanti^.  ‘ He  brought 
his  wife  and  a friend  ; and  asked  me  to  show  them  our 
coins.’  [The  Bodleian  coins  are  seldom  seen.  They 
live  upstairs  in  a cupboard  of  the  Bodleian  Gallery.] 
When  he  got  sight  of  the  Roman  as,  he  took  it  up,  and 
fixing  his  bright  eyes  on  his  friend,  exclaimed  ‘Yes, 
this  is  a real  As  ; this  is  an  Ash  What  a pity,  I thought 
to  myself,  that  he  could  not  see  that  there  were  tzvo, — not 


136  Henry  Octavius  Coxe:  [1870 

one, — and  so  have  had  the  sense  to  set  me  free  without 
consuming  my  time  in  Library  hours.” 

It  may  seem  a strange  thing  ^ to  declare  concerning 
one,  the  business  of  whose  life  it  was  to  be  occupied 
with  details, — bibliographical,  historical,  antiquarian, — 
that  his  mind  was  essentially  poetic  in  its  quality.  Yet 
would  those  who  knew  him  best  be  foremost  to  recognise 
this  feature  in  Mr.  Coxe’s  mental  constitution.  His  was 
that  rare  gift,  (a  sure  token  of  kinship  with  high  genius), 
which,  in  surveying  the  most  prosaic  and  unpromising 
subject-matter,  fastens  instinctively  on  the  points  of 
contact  between  it  and  a sublimer  life.  Those  who  have 
enjoyed  the  real  privilege  of  hearing  Mr.  Coxe  discuss 
minute  points  of  historical  detail,  or  have  been  intro- 
duced by  him  to  some  of  the  rarer  treasures  of  the 
Bodleian,  will  bear  witness  to  the  living  interest  which 
such  subjects  acquired  in  his  hands.  How  would  he 
kindle  while  he  recited  Lord  Clarendon’s  written  resig- 
nation of  the  Chancellorship  of  the  University!  With 
what  dramatic  zest  would  he  read  out  the  scraps  of 
paper  (carefully  preserved  by  Clarendon)  which  used  to 
pass  between  himself  and  his  Royal  master  across  the 
Council-table ! (By  the  way,  tJwse  were  among  the  choice 
things  with  which  he  entertained  Miss  Yonge).  His  run- 
ning commentary  on  each  fresh  document  was  quite 
delightful. — I am  reminded  here  of  a slight  but  character- 
istic incident,  illustrative  of  this  side  of  Coxe’s  character. 
We  were  talking — (it  must  have  been  somewhere  about 
1863-4) — of  Cureton’s  tasteless,  and  worse  than  tasteless, 

2 The  foregoing,  and  the  next  ensu-  present  memoir.  They  seem  to  me 

ing  paragraph,  are  due  in  the  main  to  far  too  interesting  to  be  withheld, 
the  accomplished  pen  of  a lady  who  I have  ventured  freely  to  weave 
had  a singular  appreciation  of  the  into  them  some  recollections  of  my 
excellences  of  the  subject  of  the  own.  See  below,  p.  143,  note  (6). 


137 


1870]  The  Labge-hearted  Librarian. 

renderings  from  the  Syriac, — alike  of  the  Gospels,  and  of 
the  Syriac  abridgment  of  the  Ignatian  Epistles.  Coxe’s 
features  beamed  with  merriment  as  he  reached  from  the 
table  a copy  of  the  fourth  edition  of  Jacobson’s  ^ Patres’ 
and  (drawing  me  near  to  him)  whispered, — “Now,  only 
see  how  quietly  the  dear  old  fellow  has  gibbeted  him!” 
So  saying,  he  opened  the  volume  at  random,  and  chuck- 
ling with  laughter,  read  aloud  specimen  after  specimen 
of  execrable  English  transferred  with  all  solemnity  to 
the  foot-notes,  as  the  contributions  of  ‘ Ouretonus  ’ to 
men’s  appreciation  of  primitive  Patristic  lore.^ 


But,  in  fact,  his  whole  life  was  one  continual  exhibition 
of  the  same  faculty  of  quick,  intuitive  perception,  com- 
bined with  fine,  overflowing  sympathy.  It  mattered  not 
what  came  under  those  eyes,  at  once  so  keen  and  so 
kindly:  now,  animated  with  voiceless  tenderness  and 
irrepressible  humour  ; now,  kindling  with  lofty  sentiment 
and  holy  indignation.  He  discerned  therein  at  once,  as 
if  by  intuition,  whatsoever  things  are  true,  are  honest, 
are  just,  are  pure,  are  lovely,  are  of  good  report. 
Whether  it  was  book,  picture,  or  manuscript ; landscape, 
face,  or  trait  of  character ; shy  undergraduate  in  his  first 
term,  dignified  “ Head,”  or  little  ragamuffin  in  the  streets  : 
— or  again,  whether  it  was  an  aged  parishioner  broken 
with  suffering,  an  advanced  modern  Professor,  or  a poor 
servant-girl  just  confirmed; — his  method  was  still  the 
same.  He  saw  at  a glance,  felt  after  and  found,  what 
was  noble  and  true,  to  be  loved,  or  at  least  to  be  respected 
and  honoured  in  each.  Hence,  I suppose,  it  was  that 
men  who  had  rejected  all  other  spiritual  ministrations 
have  been  known  to  be  grateful  for  Ins.  Those  would 

•'*  E.cj.  pp.  341-2  : 346-7  : 382,  &c.  &c. 


138  Henry  Octavius  Coxe:  [1870 

listen  gratefully  to  him  who  would  not  tolerate  the  visit 
of  any  other  clergyman. 

As  a mimic  and  a story-teller,  he  had  few  rivals : his 
mimicry,  so  good-natured  and  so  droll, — his  stories,  so 
original  and  so  racy ! ...  You  should  have  heard  him 
describe  the  dinner-party  which  old  Dr.  Frowd  of  Corpus 
took  it  into  his  head  (at  the  end  of  forty  years)  to  give 
to  the  undergraduate  sons  of  his  own  quondam  college 
friends  ; having — as  he  flattered  himself — sufficiently 
identified  the  young  men  by  discovering  undergraduates 
hearing  the  sa^ne  surnames  in  the  Oxford  Calendar.  The 
invitations  were  all  accepted : the  evening  and  the  men 
arrived.  But  0,  the  preposterous  result!  The  guests 
had  no  manner  of  acquaintance  with  one  another, — stood 
in  no  manner  of  relation  to  their  host ; who  yet  insisted 
on  recognizing  the  features  of  the  friends  of  his  youth  in 
these,  their  imaginary  descendants.  . . . There  was  an 
irresistible  drollery  in  Coxe’s  manner  which  there  is 
really  no  describing.  Sitting  opposite  to  me  at  a large 
dinner-party  (where  all  knew  each  other  passing  well),  he 
overheard  me  talking  to  my  neighbour  about  ‘ John 
A?-^lyn.’  “ Why  do  you  call  him  ^Evelyn  ? ’ ” he  exclaimed 
sternly  across  the  table.  I thought, — (so  ran  the 
defence), — that  I had  always  heard  the  word  so  pro- 
nounced. “ Humph ! ” (drily), — “ That  shows  the  kind 
of  company  you  keep.” 

But  (remarks  the  friend  whose  words  I was  before 
quoting)  I very  much  question  whether  any,  with  powers 
like  his,  have  had  less  to  reproach  themselves  with,  in 
their  cooler  moments.  His  mind  seemed  incapable, 
in  fact,  of  either  unkindness,  profanity,  or  coarseness. 
The  sense  of  humour  in  him  was  always  controlled  as 


1876]  The  Large-hearted  Librarian.  139 

much  by  a sense  of  beauty,  (to  no  form  of  which  was  he 
indifferent),  as  by  the  natural  piety  of  his  disposition. 
Those  who  were  with  him  on  his  first, — and  as  it  proved 
his  only, — journey  into  Italy  (1876),  will  not  easily 
forget  the  keenness  of  his  delight,  whether  at  the  beauties 
of  the  Alps  in  the  double  purity  and  freshness  of  early 
Spring  and  early  morning, — at  the  works  of  the  great 
Venetian,  Florentine,  and  Sienese  masters, — or,  (in  his 
own  special  department,)  the  treasures  of  the  libraries  and 
churches.  All  the  party  were  struck  with  the  contrast 
between  the  blase  superficial  traveller,  sick  of  “ the 
Continent”  at  five-and-twenty,  — and  the  keen  and 
intelligent  enjoyment,  the  ever-youthful  freshness,  of  such 
a mind  as  his.  They  visited  Vercelli,  Verona,  Venice, 
Ravenna,  Bologna,  Florence,  Siena,  Genoa,  &c.  Mr. 
Coxe  used  to  speak  of  Italy  afterwards  as  “ the  greatest 
pleasure  of  his  life.”  After  his  daughter’s  marriage, 
he  made  a short  excursion  almost  every  year  (1871 
to  1880)  with  her  and  her  husband, — three  times  visiting 
the  Continent  with  them,  and  always  bringing  back 
a harvest  of  pleasant  memories  for  them  as  well  as  for 
himself. 

What  made  him  so  very  attractive  and  delightful 
a companion  was  the  rare  combination  which  he  in- 
variably exhibited, — exhibited  to  the  last, — of  humour 
and  even  boyish  playfulness  of  disposition  with  manly 
judgment,  sterling  good  sense,  and  solid  attainment.  A 
friend  of  other  days,^  who  took  work  in  the  Bodleian 
latterly,  and  therefore  to  some  extent  regarded  H.  0.  C. 
as  his  chief, — notices  this,  while  responding  freshly  to 
the  first  draft  of  the  present  Memoir : — 

“ Mr.  Coxe’s  brightness  and  readiness,  his  playfulness. 


^ The  Eev.  William  Bliss. 


40 


Henry  Octavius  Coxe: 


[1876 

(how  good  it  is  to  be  a boy  at  50 !)  added  to  his  kindness, 
— made  Bodley  what  I do  not  think  it  can  be  again. 
Some  of  his  droll  sayings  come  back  to  me.  (How  many 
of  them  are  forgotten !)  Turning  over  the  pages  of  a 
manuscript  of  uncertain  date, — ■ Why,  any  one  who 
knows  a cow  from  a cabbage,  can  tell  that  this  is  between 
1317  and  1335’.  . . . At  sight  of  one,  who  shall  be 
nameless,  pacing  through  the  library, — ‘ Here  comes  So- 
and-so,  full  of  misdirected  energy !’....  And  how  he 
hated,  but  bore  with,  people  who  talked  at  the  top  of 
their  throat ! ” 

He  was  certainly  wondrous  playful.  I scarcely  ever 
heard  him  call  anybody, — certainly  he  never  called  me^ — 
by  my  proper  name ; but  always  by  a laughable  mis- 
pronunciation of  it  coined  by  Johnson,  the  late  Radcliffe 
Observer ; between  whom  and  Coxe,  by  the  way,  there 
subsisted  a very  hearty  friendship.  They  were  in  several 
respects  men  of  kindred  natures : devout, — affectionate, — 
sincere ; playful  exceedingly,  but  withal  profound  in 
their  respective  departments.  Their  chief  point  of  con- 
tact was  their  love, — but  it  amounted  to  a passioti.^ — for 
the  Fine  Arts ; and,  with  Manuel  Johnson,  a superb  missal 
or  psalter  was  not  a mere  toy, — but  an  historical  monu- 
ment and  an  instrument  of  education.  (This  is  a digression 
made  inevitable  by  the  mention  of  a cherished  name.) 
It  was  of  Coxe’s  hoyish  playfulness  that  I was  speaking. 
Aware  that  the  Rev.  George  Hext  of  Corpus  was  one  of 
his  intimates,  I wrote  to  tell  him  what  I was  about,  and 
to  ask  if  he  had  anything  to  say  on  the  subject.  He 
replied  as  follows  : — 

“ Dear  Harry  Coxe  I saw  more  of,  first  and  last,  and  on 
all  sides,  than  perhaps  any  man  in  Oxford.  Your  mention 
of  my  bed-room  window  (facing  your  own)  reminds  me 
how  Coxe,  when  he  was  on  duty  at  C.C.  C.,  came  every 
morning  to  my  rooms,  shouting  up  the  stair-case, 
^ Ju-li-ah  ! Be-loo-chee ! ' — his  reproduction  of  a strange 


i8y6]  The  Large-hearted  Librarian. 


141 

muffin  boy’s  cry,  which  perhaps  you  may  remember  for 
years  under  your  window.  (What  it  meant,  I never 
knew.)  Th-en  he  would  lug  me  out  of  my  bed-room,  and 
we  went  to  chapel  together  every  morning. 

“You  know  what  he  was  in  Bodley  and  in  Common- 
rooms.  I have  seen  him  equally  at  home  with  Berkshire 
shepherds  and  keepers,  at  lockinge  and  Betterton. — 
where  he  would  be  charmingly  jolly  amidst  old  associa- 
tions of  his  boyish  days.  Since  I left  Oxford,  not  long 
indeed  before  his  last  illness,  he  visited  Prince  Leopold 
at  Boyton  Manor  in  this  neighbourhood.  Returning 
thence  after  a delightful  evening,  and  driving  myself  in 
a dense  fog,  I missed  my  way ; and  next  morning 
innocently  told  him  of  my  adventures  when  I met  him 
by  the  cover  side. 

“ Enough  for  Coxe.  He  wrote  a chaffing  poem  of  some 
25  stanzas  at  my  expense  ; and  the  Prince,  alarmed  lest 
I should  be  offended,  sent  a friend  to  warn  me  of  what 
was  coming, — which  gave  me  the  chance  of  a whole 
afternoon  to  write  a poetical  counterblast,  recording 
Harry’s  short-comings  in  the  hunting-field  : and  just 
when  he,  at  breakfast  next  morning,  was  ‘ wondering 
how  old  Hextasy  ’ (as  he  always  called  me)  ‘ would  like 
his  post-bag the  post-bag  gave  the  answer,  — and 
much  fun  it  made  for  the  whole  party.  ...  I loved 
him  dearly,  and  his  portrait  is  looking  at  me  now  as 
I write.”  ^ 

Not  a few  Oxford  men  who  glance  over  these  lines, 
while  they  recognise  with  a smile  the  graphic  truthful- 
ness of  what  has  last  been  written,  will  be  impatient  to 
find  it  added  that  the  inveterate  joyousness  of  Mr. 
Coxe’s  disposition  was  nevertheless  something  all  apart 
from  frivolity;  had  nothing  in  it  of  real  lightness.  If 
provoked  thereto  ever  so  slightly,  he  would  rise  in  an 
instant  from  something  mirthful, — something  absurdly 
droll, — to  the  gravest  expression  of  lofty  sentiment ; — 

® ^Steeple  Langford,  Bath,^ — April  25th,  1887. 


142  Henry  Octavius  Coxe:  [1876 

or  he  would  show  himself  in  the  highest  degree  ap- 
preciative of  the  excellence  and  worth  of  the  common 
acquaintance  (yours  and  his)  whom,  a moment  before, 
he  had  been  convulsing  you  by  (half-unconsciously) 
mimicking ; or,  if  he  detected — (and  he  was  wondrous 
quick  in  such  matters) — that  sorrow  was  weighing  down 
the  heart  of  the  friend  who  addressed  him,  his  sympathy 
would  gush  forth  at  once,  and  prove  very  deep  and 
earnest,  as  well  as  very  strong.  “ He  was  in  sympathy 
unmatched  ” (writes  a common  intimate) ; “ I may  truly 
say  that,  in  joy  or  sorrow,  for  many  years  past,  he 
showed  himself  such  to  me!’  “ Exquisite  was  the  tact’’ 
(writes  the  most  discriminating  of  my  correspondents) 
“ with  which  he  would  approach  those  in  any  sorrow 
or  trouble.”  A friend  once  carried  to  him,  carefully 
bound  together,  certain  fugitive  papers  of  his  de- 
parted Father,  with  a request  that  the  slender  volume 
might  find  a resting-place  in  Bodley.  A few  words  of 
natural  piety  accompanied  the  transaction,  to  which 
Coxe,  with  glistening  eyes,  instantly  responded.  “ O 
yes,” — (putting  his  arm  round  the  other’s  neck,) — you 
wish  this  little  book  to  be  cherished.  I quite  understand. 
I will  see  to  it.  Leave  it  to  me!’  . . . Such  ready  sym- 
pathy was  very  touching.  This  characteristic  it  was,  in 
truth,  which  made  him  so  excellent  a parish  priest.  He 
was  known  to  the  British  public,  and  to  learned  men 
visiting  Oxford,  as  ‘‘  Coxe  of  the  Bodleian  but  as  Cooee 
of  IFytham  he  will  at  least  as  long,  and  even  more  affec- 
tionately, be  remembered. 

“ Coxe  ! ” (I  once  said  to  him  in  Bodley,) — “ I am  going 
to  give  a lecture  ‘ on  Epitaphs.’  Tell  me  of  some 
striking  epitaph.”  Taking  up  a pencil  from  the  table, 
he  instantly  wrote  as  follows.  (The  lines  had  caught  his 


1876]  The  Large-heabted  Librarian.  143 

eye  on  the  tomb-stone  of  an  infant  in  Eglingham  Church- 
yard, Northumberland)  : — 

“ When  the  Archangel’s  trump  doth  blow, 

And  souls  to  bodies  join, — 

Thousands  will  wish  their  life  below 
Had  been  as  brief  as  mine.” 

“Nature  had  done  much  for  him,  but  grace  did  more. 
The  personal  Religion  of  the  man  it  was, — the  lingering 
of  the  dew  of  the  morning, — which  kept  him  so  fresh 
and  green.  Such  a character  would  else  have  been 
spoiled  by  popularity.  The  humour  would  have  de- 
generated into  caustic  wit, — the  courtesy,  into  mere 
worldliness, — the  sense  of  beauty,  into  sesthetic  selfish- 
ness. The  one  only  safeguard  of  a disposition  exposed 
to  so  many  and  such  various  temptations,  was  clearly 
the  love  of  God.  It  was  this  which  harmonized  his 
character : preserved  him  from  running  into  extremes  ; 
saved  him  from  secularity : kept  his  faculties  fresh  and 
youthful.  He  really  loved  all  God’s  works,  because  he 
loved  their  Author. 

“ Though  singularly  free  from  ‘ Clericalism,’  he  was 
not  easily  to  be  surpassed  as  a faithful  and  self-sacrificing 
parish-priest.  Though  beloved  by  men  of  all  religious 
schools,  and  possibly  by  some  who  had  little  credit  given 
them  for  being  religious  at  all,  he  remained  to  the  last  a 
heartily  attached,  orthodox  Churchman.” 

So  far  an  accomplished  gentlewoman, — a near  con- 
nexion of  his  by  marriage, — who,  with  the  peculiar  tact 
of  her  sex,  fully  appreciated  Henry  Coxe.® 

Without  a particle  of  ostentation,  the  subject  of  this 
Memoir  was  a truly  earnest  Christian,  a very  faithful 
man.  The  Head-master  of  one  of  our  great  public 
schools  wrote  to  me  in  1881, — 

“In  confirmation  of  what  you  have  said  of  his  deep 

® I am  indebted  to  the  same  distinguished  Lady  (E.  W.)  for  paragraphs 
in  pages  122-3,  136,  142. 


144 


Henby  Octavius  Coxe: 


[1876 

but  unobtrusive  religion,  I may  mention  how  impressed 
I once  was  when  I went  to  consult  him  about  a step 
I was  intending  to  take.  He  listened  with  the  kindliest 
sympathy,  and  gave  me  the  soundest  advice  : then,  as  I 
left,  he  said  in  his  own  way, — ‘ Before  you  settle,  first 
on  your  knees,  my  dear  boy ! on  your  knees  ! ’ . . . The 
last  time  I saw  him  was  at  the  Bodleian  ; when,  placing 
my  small  girl  on  his  knee,  he  showed  her  such  of  his 
treasures  as  he  thought  would  most  interest  her,  with  a 
flow  of  fun  and  anecdote  and  knowledge  that  quite 
captivated  the  child.” 

Another  friend,  (writing  from  the  Manor  house,  Ward- 
ington,  near  Banbury),  relates  that  Mr.  Coxe  “ once 
came  over  here,  for  the  day,  with  his  wife, — arriving 
quite  early  in  the  forenoon  of  Sept.  21st.  He  was 
standing  talking  in  my  garden,  when  he  heard  the 
Church  bell,  and  asked  why  it  rang  % On  being  told 
that  there  was  Service,  because  of  the  Saint’s  day, — ‘ I 
should  like  to  go,’  (he  at  once  exclaimed),  ^ it  is  my  hirth- 
clay'  By  the  by, — Coxe’s  birthday  was  the  20th  Sep- 
tember. How  is  this  to  be  explained'?”’^ 

He  was  no  partisan  in  ecclesiastical  matters : — held 
aloof  from  general  University  questions : — did  not  mix 
himself  up  with  parties  and  politics.  There  was  in  this 
something  of  dread  of  injuring  the  interests  of  “old 
Bodley.”  Something  there  also  was  of  constitutional 
abhorrence  of  strife.  But  chiefly,  as  I prefer  to  think,  it 
was  because  he  saw  and  loved  the  good  in  all ; and  tried, 
for  his  own  part,  to  breathe  a purer  atmosphere.  He  was 
wondrous  charitable,  reserving  his  honest  scorn  for  un- 
disguised unfaithfulness,  with  which  he  would  make  no 

’’  From  George  Loveday,  esq.  Ever  after  his  daughter’s  marriage, 
(Aug.  1 ith,  1881).  Coxe’s  birthday  Coxe  kept  the  two  days  as  one: 
was  certainly  the  20th, — his  son-in-  asking  playfully  “ Which  day  was 
law’s  birthday  was  on  the  morrow.  his, — which,  Johnny’s?” 


1876]  The  Large-hearted  Librarian.  145 

terms.  I am  reminded  of  an  anecdote  which  is  in  every 
way  characteristic  of  the  man.  It  was  shortly  after  the 
publication  Essays  and  Reviews ^ that  Jowett,  meeting 
Coxe,  inquired, — “Have  you  read  my  Essay?” — “No, 
my  dear  Jowett,”  (was  the  prompt  reply).  “ We  are 
good  friends  now ; but  I know  that  if  I were  to  read 
that  Essay,  I should  have  to  cut  you.  So  I havenH  read 
it,  and — dont  mean  to!' 

Certain  practices  of  his  which  have  become  known  to 
me,  there  is  no  reason  why  I should  conceal.  He  never 
(as  far  as  possible)  dined  out  on  Saturday, — in  order  to 
be  free  to  prepare  himself  for  Sunday.  His  regular 
daily  practice  was  to  pray  when  he  went  to  dress  for 
dinner.  At  all  times  he  seemed  to  realise  the  immediate 
presence  of  God,  even  when  in  the  highest  spirits.  His 
daughter  recalls  with  affectionate  gratitude  the  religious 
flavour  which  he  contrived  to  impart  to  their  Sunday 
evenings  when  little  children:  remembers  his  tenderly 
checking  in  them  any  approach  to  irreverence:  par- 
ticularises as  an  instance  of  his  solicitude  on  this  head 
his  “never  letting  us  say  ‘this  Messed  day’  in  sport.” 
A more  tender  and  devoted  parent  never  lived.  He 
simply  doted  on  all  his  children.  When  “ Suse  ” was  ill, 
you  had  only  to  look  into  Coxe’s  face  to  know  what  the 
doctor’s  report  had  been  that  morning.  I think  indeed 
I never  knew  a man  in  whom  the  home  affections  were 
so  manifestly  supreme.  It  is  pleasant  to  be  able  to 
add  that  I never  knew  a case  in  which  the  children 
more  dutifully  and  entirely  reciprocated  their  father’s 
tenderness. 

As  for  his  aspect,  his  portrait  by  Watts,  painted  within 
a very  few  years  of  Coxe’s  death,  is  on  the  whole  a not 

VOL.  II.  L 


146  Henry  Octavius  Coxe:  [1879 

unfaithful  general  rendering  of  the  man.  Sitting  back  in 
his  library-chair  on  his  return  from  the  Convocation 
house,  and  requested  by  a photographer  to  “ sit  very  still 
for  a minute,”  it  is  somewhat  thus  that  Coxe  might 
have  looked.  But  one  desiderates  the  living  sentiment 
of  a face  which  abounded  in  changeful  expression, — and 
those  features,  which  were  so  full  of  character  and 
refinement,  are  scarcely  exhibited  by  the  painter  with  the 
wished-for  delicacy  and  detail. 

“ The  painful  malady”  (writes  his  son-in-law)  “ which 
occasioned  his  death,  began  about  ten  years  before.  We 
hastened  home  in  February,  1879,  hearing  he  was  very 
ill,  and  were  never  afterwards  entirely  free  from  anxiety 
on  his  account.”  There  was  in  him  indeed  a buoy- 
ancy of  spirit, — an  elasticity  of  temperament  and  an 
inveterate  hopefulness  of  disposition, — which  contributed 
not  a little  to  the  prolongation  of  his  career.  The 
closing  scene  came  on  the  8th  of  July  1881,  when  he 
was  within  two  months  of  accomplishing  the  appointed 
span  of  human  life.  He  ended  his  days  at  Northgate, — 
a house  on  the  Banbury  road,  at  the  Northern  extremity 
of  S.  Giles’s,  standing  in  what  is  still  an  ample  garden. 
This  property,  which  had  been  for  half-a-century  the 
ultma  Thule  of  Oxford,  has  long  since  been  absorbed  into 
the  suburbs  of  the  city.  Coxe  had  desired  it  as  a residence 
ever  since  his  undergraduate  days.  He  possessed,  but  can 
scarcely  be  said  to  have  enjoyed  it,  for  a year  exactly.  In 
July,  1880,  he  had  bought  the  place,  and  was  just  moving 
into  it  at  Michaelmas  from  his  former  residence  in  Beau- 
mont Street, — (No.  17,  which  until  1859  was  numbered 
‘ 14’), — when  he  was  taken  ill  under  his  son-in-law’s  roof. 
At  the  end  of  November  he  moved  into  his  new  house, 
and  again  had  a relapse.  But  he  got  through  the  winter 


147 


i88i]  The  Large-hearted  Librarian. 

fairly  well: — much  enjoyed  his  new  home  and  his 
garden: — was  even  able,  till  within  three  weeks  of  his 
death,  to  go  for  the  middle  of  the  day  to  Bodley.  Still, 
it  was  a period  of  suffering, — the  beginning  of  the  end. 
It  was  perceived  that  during  this  winter’s  illness  his 
constant  thought  was  of  his  Mother.  Her  portrait  hung 
in  his  room.  . . . “He  died,” — (so  ends  the  record), — 
“ between  8 and  9 in  the  morning  of  Friday,  July  8th 
1881,  after  about  two  days  of  severe  suffering  : perfectly 
conscious  throughout,  and  full  of  love  even  when  his 
depression  was  greatest.” 

He  sleeps  in  the  peaceful  little  churchyard  of  Wytham, 
by  the  side  of  “ Willie,” — (the  eldest  of  his  five  children 
[1840-69]), — and  was  followed  to  the  grave  (on  the 
Tuesday  after  his  death)  by  an  unusually  large  assem- 
blage of  attached  members  of  the  University  and  other 
sorrowing  friends,  besides  the  whole  of  the  Bodleian 
staff.  . . . “ I wish  you  could  have  been  present  at  the 
last  scene  at  Wytham  on  the  12th  ! ” — wrote  his  ancient 
friend  Errington,  addressing  me,  a few  days  after.  (I 
happened  to  be  personally  unknown  to  him ; for  of 
course  I was  there.) 

Very  characteristic  was  that  gathering  at  his  funeral. 
Men  of  widely  different  pursuits,  and  men  who  repre- 
sented extreme  and  conflicting  schools  of  thought,  were 
there ; — men  like-minded,  and  men  the  most  diverse  from 
himself; — men  revered  for  their  piety,  and  men  whose 
writings  attest  that  they  are  scarcely  believers  in 
Revelation: — all  were  there,  and  all  looked  sorrowful. 
But,  as  was  remarked  by  his  nephew  who  stood  by  his 
grave, — “ the  tribute  he  would  have  liked  best  was  the 
bearing  of  his  humble  parishioners.  Nearly  all  the 


148  Henry  Octavius  Coxe.  [1881 

women  were  in  mourning,  and  most  of  them  were  dis- 
solved in  tears.”  ® 

The  void  which  the  loss  of  Henry  Octavius  Coxe 
occasions  in  Oxford  is  simply  irreparable.  Very  sad  too 
is  the  reflection  that,  when  such  an  one  as  he  is  removed 
from  among  the  living,  there  departs — if  there  does  not 
perish — with  him  an  amount  of  rare  attainment,  of 
precious  and  peculiar  learning,  (resulting  from  personal 
observation  and  the  experience  of  half-a-century  of 
thoughtful,  studious  life),  of  which  nothing  can  be  re- 
tained for  the  beneflt  of  the  coming  generation;  while 
only  the  pleasant  memory  of  it  survives  with  his  sorrow- 
ing family, — his  intimates  and  his  personal  friends. 

® Gen,  HolledCoxe,  (Boxgi’ove,  Guildford),  in  a letter  to  Rev.  J.  Rigaud 
(July  1885). 


(IX).  HENRY  LONGUEVILLE 
MANSEL ; 


TEE  CHRISTIAN  PHILOSOPHER. 

[A.D.  1820—1871.] 

IT  is  not  often  that  men  who  achieve  for  themselves 
great  literary  distinction  are  able  to  lay  claim  as 
well  to  ancient  and  honourable  descent.  Henry 
Longueville  Mansel  sprang  from  a family  of  high 
repute,  which  had  held  possessions  in  the  north  of 
Buckinghamshire  and  in  the  adjacent  extremity  of 
Bedfordshire,  ever  since  the  time  of  William  the  Nor- 
man. The  family  tradition  is,  that  Philip  le  Mansel 
[i.  e.  a native  of  the  province  of  Maine), — from  whom  all 
the  Maunsells,  Mansells,  or  Mansels  are  descended, — 
accompanied  William  into  England.^  Be  that  as  it  may, 
a grant  in  fee  of  land  in  Turvey  from  ‘Paganus  de 
Alneto’  (who  certainly  came  over  with  the  Conqueror) 
to  ‘ Bicardus  Mansell  ’ is  the  first  document  in  that 
rarest  of  family  histories, — Halstead’s  ‘ Succinct  Genealo- 
gies' ^ Eustace  le  Mordaunt  (a  direct  ancestor  of  the 

^ ^Historical  and  Genealogical  the  aid  of  his  chaplain  the  Rev. 
account  of  the  ancient  family  of  Richard  Rands,  rector  of  Turvey ; 
Maunsell,  Mansell^  Mansel,'  by  and  gives, — besides  the  Mordaunt 
William  W.  Mansell,  (privately  annals, — the  history  of  the  most 

printed)  1850, — p.  iii  and  p.  1 7.  illustrious  of  the  families  with  which 

^ 1685, — p.  5.  It  was  compiled  by  the  Mordaunts  had  intermarried. 
Henry,  Earl  of  Peterborough,  with  ‘ Halstead  ’ is  a feigned  name. 


150  Henry  Lonoueville  Hansel:  [1794 

Earls  of  Peterborough),  Eichard  de  Ardres,  and  Saher  le 
Mansell,  are  related  to  have  married  the  three  co-heiresses 
of  William  de  Alneto,  Lord  of  Purvey,  about  A.D.  1190.^ 
Saher  was  of  Chicheley  in  Buckinghamshire^  His 
descendant,  ‘William  (son  of  Sampson  le  Mansell  of 
Purvey,’)  in  1287  sold  all  his  possessions  in  Chicheley^ 
to  William  le  Mordaunt, — who  (in  1297)  imparked  his 
wood  of  ‘ Manselsgrove  ’ with  the  rest  of  his  lands  in 
Purvey.®  Phe  locality,  which  retains  its  ancient  name 
to  this  day,  probably  indicates  the  site  of  the  ancient 
homestead  of  the  Mansels.  Phey  resided  continuously 
at  Chicheley  for  at  least  fourteen  generations,  viz.  till 
the  lifetime  of  John  Maunsell  in  1622;  whose  cousin 
Samuel  became  possessed  by  marriage  of  an  estate  at 
Cosgrove  in  Northamptonshire,  where  the  family  went 
to  settle,  and  where  they  have  continued  to  reside  ever 
since.  Cosgrove  Hall,  formerly  the  residence  of  the 
Longuevilles,  was  devised  to  Samuel’s  great-grandson, — 
John,  youngest  son  of  the  Rev.  Christopher  Mansel, — in 
1741. 


John  entered  the  army  in  early  life,  attained  the  rank 
of  Major-General,  being  Colonel  of  the  3rd  Dragoon 
Guards ; and  in  the  Duke  of  York’s  campaign  in  Flan- 
ders in  1794,  had  the  command  of  a brigade  of  heavy 
cavalry.  He  fell  gloriously  at  the  battle  of  Coteau, 
25th  April.  Directed  by  General  Otto  to  attack  the 


® See  the  Pedigree  in  Harvey’s 
‘ History  of  the  Hundred  of  Willey^ 
— p.  186-7. 

* Baker’s  ^Northamptonshire' — 
vol.  ii.  p.  1 31. 

® See  the  deed  in  Halstead’s 
work  already  quoted, — p.  456. 

® The  deed  is  given  in  Halstead, — 
P-  457- — Tte  family  history  quoted 


above,  in  note  ( i ) , — at  page  45  .makes 
this  William  the  son  of  John  Mansell 
[1220-1265], — the  celebrated  fa- 
vourite of  Henry  III  and  Lord 
Chancellor  of  England.  This  must 
be  an  error.  Lord  Chancellor  Man- 
sell, however,  was  at  all  events  one  of 
the  family. 


1794]  The  Christian  Philosopher.  15  i 

enemy  in  flank,  after  some  manoeuvres  he  came  up  with 
the  French  in  the  valley  of  Cawdry,  charged,  and  com- 
pletely defeated  them.  He  then  rushed  at  the  head  of 
his  brigade  against  a battery  of  fourteen  pieces  of  cannon, 
placed  on  an  eminence  behind  a deep  ravine,  into  which 
many  of  the  front  rank  fell.  He  passed  the  ravine,  and 
at  the  head  of  a considerable  body  of  his  men  charged 
the  cannon  with  inconceivable  intrepidity  and  complete 
success.  His  heroic  conduct  decided  the  day;  but  at  the 
mouth  of  this  battery.  General  Hansel,  after  having  had 
three  horses  killed  under  him,  received  his  death-wound. 
One  grape-shot  entered  his  chin,  fracturing  his  spine  and 
coming  out  between  his  shoulders,  while  another  broke 
his  arm  to  splinters.  His  eldest  son  and  aide-de-camp, 
Capt.  Hansel,  rushed  to  his  father’s  aid,  but  was  wounded 
and  taken  prisoner.  On  the  26th,  the  General  was 
buried  in  a redoubt  at  the  head  of  the  camp  with  all 
military  honours.  The  corpse  was  escorted  by  a brigade 
of  cavalry,  and  received  by  the  whole  line  under  arms. 
Six  generals  (Abercrombie,  Dundas,  Harcourt,  Garth,  and 
Fox,)  supported  the  pall,  and  the  Duke  of  York,  the 
Stadtholder,  the  hereditary  Prince  of  Orange,  and  all  the 
officers  of  the  army,  attended  the  funeral.  The  spectacle 
was  described  at  the  time  as  ‘ awful  and  magnificent.’ 
Some  sixty  years  later,  on  the  occasion  of  the  heroic 
Balaclava  charge.  Lord  Ellenborough  said  in  the  House 
of  Lords, — 

‘ I know  not  the  instance,  although  it  may  exist,  in 
which  cavalry  has  before  charged  the  cavalry,  infantry, 
and  artillery  belonging  to  a powerful  army  in  position. 
I have  never  heard  of  such  a thing,  and  I do  not  believe 
it  has  existed.’ 

General  Hansel’s  grandson  instantly  supplied  the  ‘ Times  * 
newspaper  with  the  details  of  the  foregoing  far  more 


152  Henry  Longueville  Hansel:  [1783 

splendid  achievement ; whereby  1500  of  the  British 
cavalry  gained  a complete  victory  over  22,000  French  in 
sight  of  their  corjis  de  reserve  consisting  of  5000  men  and 
20  pieces  of  cannon.*^  History  does  not  furnish  a 
parallel  instance  of  valour. 

General  Mansel  left  four  sons.  John  Christopher  the 
eldest,  who  has  been  mentioned  already,  retired  from  the 
army  with  the  rank  of  Major,  and  resided  at  Cosgrove  Hall 
till  he  died.  His  health  had  been  seriously  impaired  by 
wounds  received  in  action.  Robert,  the  second  son,  entered 
the  Royal  Navy,  attained  the  rank  of  Admiral^  and  com- 
manded H.M.’s  brig  Penguin,  18  guns.  She  was  attacked 
by  three  French  ships  which  gave  her  chase.  A brisk 
action  lasting  three  hours  followed,  in  which  the  brig 
gained  the  advantage  : — 

‘ We  had  the  misfortune  ’ (wrote  one  of  the  Officers  on 
board)  ‘ to  lose  our  foretopmast,  which  fell  in  such  a 
direction  that  the  whole  foreyard  became  useless.  This, 
together  with  the  disabled  state  of  our  rigging,  and  our 
sails  all  cut  to  pieces  and  on  fire,  made  the  brig  quite 
ungovernable.  Captain  Mansel,  just  on  the  crash  of  the 
topmast,  took  hold  of  the  hand  of  the  next  man  to  him. 
The  whole  crew  followed  his  example.  It  was  a moment 
of  awful  silence.  Not  a word  was  spoken:  but  we  all 
knew  that  it  meant  to  stand  hy  each  other  to  the  last,  and 
never  strike.  Three  cheers  to  our  brave  Captain  followed. 
But  our  enemy  had  got  enough  of  it.  Taking  advantage 
of  a dark  night  and  our  disabled  condition,  they  made 
off.’ 

George,  the  third  son,  was  Captain  in  the  25th  Light 
Dragoons  and  died  on  his  passage  from  India  in  1808. — 
Henry  Longueville  Mansel,  the  General’s  youngest  son 
(born  in  1783),  became  Rector  of  Cosgrove,  and  was  the 

’ See  a letter  in  the  ‘ Times  ’ of  quoting  from  the  ‘ Evening  Mail  ’ 
Jan.  26th,  1855,  signed  ‘H.  L.  M.’ ; of  May  14th,  1794. 


i82o]  The  Christian  Philosopher.  153 

father  of  the  Metaphysician  and  Divine  to  be  com- 
memorated in  the  ensuing  pages. 

Educated  at  Eton  and  at  Trinity  College,  Cambridge, 
he  is  related  to  have  been  a man  of  fine  abilities  and 
singular  moral  worth ; whose  conscientious  discharge  of 
his  ministerial  duties,  unselfish  character,  and  delightful 
manners,  endeared  him  to  all  the  country  round.  He 
was  the  trusted  friend  and  adviser  of  all.  Living  during 
the  troubled  period  of  the  bread  riots,  he  conducted  most 
of  the  magisterial  business  in  his  neighbourhood,  which 
at  that  time  devolved  chiefly  on  the  Clergy.  ‘ Well, 
Harry,’  (said  his  neighbour,  the  Rev.  Lorraine  Smith,)  ‘ I 
don’t  understand  much  about  these  things,  but  where  you 
lead  I will  follow.’  (They  two,  with  the  Squire,  had 
alone  taken  the  oaths  under  the  new  King.)  He  built 
the  Rectory-house,  and  resided  there  (1810-35), — taking 
the  spiritual  oversight  of  the  parish,  while  his  elder 
brother  (John  Christopher)  resided  at  the  Hall. 


In  the  Rectory  of  Cosgrove  then, — a pleasant  North- 
amptonshire village,  surrounded  by  rural  scenery  of  the 
genuine  English  type, — Henky  Longueville  Mansel 
was  born  on  the  6th  of  October,  1820.  He  was  the 
fourth  of  eight  children,^  all  born  in  the  same  house, — two 
sons  (of  whom  he  was  the  elder)  and  six  daughters,  one 
of  whom  died  in  infancy.  His  Mother,  Maria  Margaret, 
was  the  only  daughter  of  Admiral  Sir  Robert  Moorsom, 

® Marianne  (Mrs.  Weight)  : — rietta.  The  last-named  accomplished 
Eleanor  Maria  (Mrs.  Gates): — lady  died  at  Bedford,  Aug.  19th, 
Catharine  Margaret  (Mrs.  Man-  1885.  Her  excellent  memory  and 
sel) : — H.  L.  M. : — Antonia  Isa-  intellectual  appreciation  of  her 
bella  (b.and  d.  in  1822) : — Clarissa  brother  Henry,  enabled  her  to  ren- 
(Mrs.  Searle) : — Bobert  Stanley  der  me  great  service  in  compiling 
(1826-1881,  leaving  issue)  : — Hen-  the  present  memoir. 


154 


Henry  Longueville  Mansel:  [1830 


K.C.B.,^  who  commanded  the  Ueve^ige  in  the  battle  of 
Trafalgar,  and  was  specially  commended  for  his  bravery 
in  action.  Thus  deriving  his  being  from  heroic  ancestry 
on  either  side,  the  subject  of  the  present  Memoir  might 
have  been  expected  to  add  lustre  to  the  annals  of  his 
country’s  Army  or  Navy:  but  his  triumphs  were 
destined  to  be  won  in  other  fields.  The  warfare  to 
which  he  consecrated  his  powers  was  intellectual, — a 
perpetual  conflict  on  behalf  of  God’s  Truth  with  the 
growing  infidelity  of  the  age.  His  Mother  (who  survived 
him,  for  she  lived  till  1877,  by  which  time  she  had  at- 
tained the  age  of  83,)  is  described  as  a woman  of  great 
strength  of  character, — clearness  of  understanding, — 
quickness  of  judgment.  She  was  the  very  pattern  of  a 
Clergyman’s  wife  : a pattern  Mother  too,  she  was.  The 
extraordinary  memory,  firm  will,  and  strong  affections,  for 
which  the  future  Dean  of  St.  Paul’s  was  distinguished, 
were  characteristic  of  both  his  parents, — but  especially 
of  his  Mother. 

From  the  Rector  of  Cosgrove,  (who  would  sometimes 
ask  his  wife  if  the  matter  of  his  Sermons  could  be  more 
plainly  put  to  the  simple  village  folk),  Henry  obtained 
his  first  lessons  in  the  use  of  language  as  a reflection  of 
the  thoughts.  He  learned  from  his  Father  (he  said) 
‘ never  to  use  a word  of  two  syllables  where  a word  of 
one  would  do.’  Let  it  be  added  that  he  derived  from 
the  same  source  a far  more  exalted  estimate  of  the 
Pastoral  Office, — inherited  a far  loftier  standard  of  minis- 
terial responsibility, — than  prevailed  among  our  pro- 
vincial Clergy  during  the  first  quarter  of  the  present 
century. 


® He  was  secretary  to  Lord  Mul-  Ordnance,  and  subsequently  Port- 
grave,  Surveyor-General  of  the  Admiral  at  Chatham. 


1830]  The  Christian  Philosopher.  155 

The  home  of  Henry’s  early  boyhood  was  a singularly 
bright  and  happy  one.  Strange,  that  careful  inquiry 
should  succeed  in  eliciting  so  little,  on  occasions  like  the 
present!  But  so  it  is,  that  the  materials  out  of  which 
childhood  weaves  its  mysterious  bliss,  are  ever  slight 
and  impalpable.  The  incident  remembered  with  most 
satisfaction  is  ‘ the  Siege  of  Troy^  This  consisted  in 
attacking  and  defending  a stack  of  fagots  in  the  Rectory- 
yard.  Imagination  supplied  the  accessaries.  The  chil- 
dren severally  personated  the  chief  characters  of  the 
^IliacV  Henry  was  Achilles.  The  siege  was  at  last  dis- 
continued, because  Eleanor  (Mrs.  Gates)  objected  to 
being  dragged  by  the  heels  round  the  walls  of  Troy: 
while  Clara  (Mrs.  Searle,  a heroine,  but  within  reason- 
able bounds,)  declined  parting  with  her  tresses  in  order 
to  supply  the  besieged  with  bow-strings.  It  is  remem- 
bered besides  that  ‘ when  we  “ came  down  to  dessert,” 
each  was  expected  to  say  something  by  heart.  This 
strengthened  our  memories.  Henry  used  to  distinguish 
himself  on  those  occasions.’ 

With  the  village  of  Cosgrove,  and  with  the  Rectory- 
house  in  which  the  first  sixteen  years  of  his  life  had 
been  spent,  were  linked  to  the  last  all  Henry  Mansel’s 
tenderest  memories.  He  clung  to  the  surroundings  of 
his  father’s  ‘modest  mansion’  with  indescribable  affec- 
tion. What  wonder'?  Nothing  in  after  life  makes  up 
for  the  vanished  sweetness  of  the  home  of  other  days: 
and  in  his  case,  the  domestic  hearth  must  have  been 
peculiarly  joyous.  To  Cosgrove  he  was  observed  ever  to 
return  with  a kind  of  passionate  fondness.  No  change 
in  fact  was  so  eagerly  anticipated,  or  proved  so  refresh- 
ing to  his  spirits,  as  the  occasional  resort  thither.  The 
very  atmosphere  of  the  place  was  exhilarating  and 


156  Henry  Longueville  Mansel:  [1830 

delicious  to  him.  Was  it  that  the  beech-trees  freshened 
the  air,  and  that  the  abundant  violets  made  it  sweet  ? 
On  approaching  Cosgrove,  weariness  seemed  driven  from 
his  countenance,  as  he  recognized  a face  long  familiar,  or 
passed  some  object  full  of  childish  associations.  Some 
happy  remark  would  generally  follow.  Writing  in  1855, 
he  expressed  himself  as  follows : — 

‘Now,  after  the  lapse  of  twenty  years,  I scarcely  have 
a dream  of  vivid  interest  in  which  the  scene  is  not  laid 
in  that  spot.’  (He  then  adds  : — ) ‘ It  is  curious  how  in 
sleep,  when  the  personal  activity  and  self-consciousness 
which  connect  us  mainly  with  the  present  are  lulled  to 
rest,  the  mind  almost  invariably  goes  back  to  those  days 
and  scenes  of  childhood  when  the  imagination  was  more 
vivid  and  the  judgment  less  mature.  It  seems  as  if  the 
imaginative  faculties,  which  are  apt  to  grow  duller  with 
advancing  years,  strive  when  predominant  to  draw  fresh 
supplies  of  vigour  from  the  foundation  of  their  early 
strength ; and  as  if  that  form  of  consciousness,  which  no 
impossibilities  startle  and  in  which  no  anachronisms  are 
detected,  links  itself  by  natural  affinity  with  that  period 
of  the  waking  life  in  which  reality  and  its  laws  are  least 
present  to  us,  and  the  dreams  of  Fairyland  most  vivid.’ 

The  reminiscences  of  Henry’s  earliest  years  which 
linger  on  in  the  family,  though  few  and  slight,  are 
characteristic.  The  child’s  thoughtfulness  used  to  strike 
every  one.  On  being  presented  by  his  Mother  with  a little 
wheelbarrow,  instead  of  playing  with  it  in  the  manner 
of  other  children,  he  was  observed  to  turn  it  upside 
down, — to  seat  himself  upon  it, — and  to  keep  twirling 
the  wheel,  lost  in  a kind  of  reverie.  He  always  wanted 
to  know  the  reason  why  everything  was : — used  to  pull 
his  toys  to  pieces  to  see  how  they  were  put  together : — 
cut  out  the  head  of  his  drum  in  order  to  discover  what 
it  was  that  made  the  sound.  One  of  his  earliest  as  well 


1830]  The  Christian  Philosopher,  157 

as  of  his  latest  characteristics  was  his  slowness  to  speak 
on  any  subject  until  he  had  fully  mastered  it : but 
having  weighed  any  question  and  arrived  at  his  own 
conclusions,  he  would  maintain  and  defend  his  position 
with  a power  rarely  met  with  in  a much  older  person. 
His  mind  once  made  up,  he  rarely  changed  his  opinion. 
Quick,  thoughtful,  and  observant,  he  frequently  surprised 
the  family  by  the  reasoning  powers  he  displayed.  It  has 
been  said  of  him  that  ‘ he  was  born  a Metaphysician  ’ ; 
and  traits  are  remembered  of  his  tenderest  years  which 
illustrate  and  confirm  that  saying.  In  maturer  life,  he 
frequently  referred  to  the  problem  which  almost  in  his 
infancy  used  to  puzzle  and  trouble  him.  Before  he  was 
old  enough  to  put  his  thoughts  into  language,  he  would 
lie  on  the  ground,  (which  he  was  fond  of  doing),  and 
perplex  himself  with  the  question, — ‘ My  hand : my  foot. 
But  what  is  me?"*  His  Mother  once  heard  him  solilo- 
quizing in  that  way. 

On  a certain  occasion,  while  reading  Miss  Edgeworth’s 
child’s  book,  ‘ Frank,’  he  raised  the  question — Whether 
the  story  was  true?  A suitable  answer  was  returned 
which  appeared  to  him  satisfactory.  Presently  came  a 
passage — ‘ Frank  was  going  to  say  &c.  &c.  but  he  forgot.’ 
‘Now’  (exclaimed  little  Mansel)  ‘I  know  it  cannot  be 
true : for  how  could  they  know  what  Frank  was  going  to 
say,  if  he  forgot  ?’  ...  It  is  needless  to  add  concerning 
such  a child  that  he  gave  extraordinary  promise.  An 
appreciative  aged  neighbour,  (Rev.  W.  Hellings  of  Pot- 
terspury, — familiarly  designated  ‘the  Vicar  of  Wake- 
field ’),  used  to  say,  ‘ I am  afraid  I shall  be  dead  before 
that  boy  is  old  enough  for  me  to  teach  him  Hebrew.’ 

The  power  of  retaining  what  he  had  once  heard  or 
read,  he  enjoyed  through  life  in  an  extraordinary  degree: 


158  Henry  Longueville  Hansel:  [1828 

and  this  faculty  developed  itself  very  early.  In  fact, 
his  retentive  memory — (he  derived  it  chiefly  from  his 
Mother) — was  perhaps  his  most  remarkable  endowment. 
When  too  young  to  be  taught,  he  would  often  pick  up 
portions  of  the  lessons  his  Sisters  were  learning,  which 
enabled  him  to  supply  the  passage  wanted,  if,  when 
repeating  their  lessons  to  their  Mother,  (as  the  custom 
was,)  the  girls  were  sometimes  at  fault.  This  created 
the  more  surprise  because,  apparently,  he  had  been 
engrossed  by  his  toys  on  the  floor. 

It  was  his  Father’s  custom  to  catechize  the  children  of 
the  parish  in  the  Church  on  Sunday  afternoons.  When 
Henry  was  three  years  old  he  insisted  on  standing  up 
and  repeating  the  Church  Catechism  with  the  rest.  He 
had  picked  it  up  by  ear.  Accordingly,  he  was  mounted  on 
a form.  On  one  such  occasion, — ‘ How  many  Command- 
ments are  there  h ’ inquired  the  Rector  of  his  infant  son. 

‘ Ten,’  replied  the  child ; immediately  adding  (to  the 
surprise  and  discomfiture  of  the  Catechist),  ‘ Which  he 
they  ? ’ 

At  the  age  of  eight,  having  been  taught  till  then  by 
his  Father,  he  was  sent  to  a preparatory  school  kept  by 
the  Rev.  John  Collins  of  East  Farndon  in  Northampton- 
shire ; where  he  was  long  remembered  for  his  passionate 
love  of  books  and  omnivorous  taste  for  reading.  But 
he  preferred  history  to  fable,  and  works  of  a solid 
character  generally  to  what  is  called  ‘light  literature.’ 
In  this  respect, — Would  it  be  true,  or  not,  to  say  that 
‘ the  child  is  father  to  the  man  ’ ? In  his  maturer  years 
he  was  certainly  a great  reader  of  fiction,  and  possessed 
a larger  collection  of  Fairy  tales  than  perhaps  any  other 
person.  It  was  here  that  he  had  his  first  and  only  fight ; 
the  cause  being  disrespectful  language  on  the  part  of 


159 


1830]  The  Christian  Philosopher. 

one  of  the  boys  concerning  the  Church  and  sacred  sub- 
jects. These,  throughout  his  life,  might  never  be  ap- 
proached in  his  presence  without  reverence.  With  Mr. 
Collins,  Henry  remained  for  two  years. ^ 

The  choice  of  a school  of  higher  pretensions  had  long 
been  a matter  of  anxious  consideration  with  Henry’s 
parents.  The  father’s  predilections  were  naturally  in 
favour  of  Eton,  but  to  this  certain  obstacles  presented 
themselves.  At  the  same  juncture,  one  of  those  coinci- 
dences which  men  call  ‘ accidents  ’ determined  at  once 
which  should  be  Henry’s  school.  University,  and  Col- 
lege. Between  the  Rev.  Philip  Wynter,  (who  was  by 
this  time  President  of  S.  John’s),  and  the  inmates  of 
Cosgrove  Rectory,  a warm  friendship  had  sprung  up  in 
bygone  years, — when  Wynter  had  held  the  Curacy  of 
Hardingstone  in  the  same  county.  Himself  educated  at 
Merchant  Taylors’  School,  and  ardently  attached  to  that 
foundation, — ‘from  my  connexion  with  which  ’ (he  wrote) 
‘ all  my  prosperity  and  comfort  in  life  under  Providence 
have  been  derived,’^ — Wynter  had  not  failed  to  urge  the 
advantages  it  affords  to  youths  intended  for  the  Univer- 
sity. Ultimately,  through  his  friendly  intervention,  the 
offer  came  of  a presentation  to  that  School.  It  was 
accepted,  and  Henry  was  at  once  placed  in  the  House  of 
the  Rev.  J.  W.  Bellamy,  then  Head-master.  He  entered 
on  this  new  phase  of  existence  on  the  29th  Sept.,  1 830, 
and  speedily  distinguished  himself  by  his  assiduity  and 
application,  as  well  as  became  liked  for  his  amiability  of 
character. 

1 In  a letter  dated  17th  Sept.  so  clever  and  sensible  a boy.’ 

1830,  Mr.  Collins  laments  that  ‘ to-  ^ Letter  to  the  Rector  of  Cos- 
morrow  morning  ’ he  shall  cease  to  grove, — 14th  June  1830. 
enjoy  ‘the  pleasure  of  instructing 


i6o  Henry  Longueville  Hansel:  [1830 

Even  at  this  early  period  his  power  of  abstraction  was 
remarked  as  extraordinary.  No  matter  what  might  be 
going  on  in  the  boarders’  room,  it  seemed  as  if  nothing 
was  able  to  divert  his  attention  from  his  actual  object 
of  study.  At  the  same  time  his  popularity  secured  him 
from  molestation  by  those  many  annoyances  which 
school-boys  are  apt  to  practise  on  their  fellows  so  occu- 
pied. ‘ Such  a quiet  lad  ! ’ (Mrs.  Bellamy  used  to  say  of 
him:) — ‘I  believe  the  boys  might  jump  over  his  head 
while  he  is  with  his  books,  for  aught  he  would  care,  so 
that  they  did  not  molest  him'.  By  the  way,  it  is  noted 
by  some  who  were  his  school  intimates  at  this  time,  that, 
as  a boy,  he  was  irascible  and  even  violent.  But  his  anger, 
(it  is  always  added),  was  soon  over.  ‘In  later  years’ 
(writes  the  present  President,  Dr.  Bellamy,)  ‘ there  seemed 
no  remnant  of  such  a temper.’  And  (what  is  remarkable) 
the  members  of  his  own  family,  from  their  experience  of 
his  unvarying  sweetness  at  home,  are  wholly  unable  to 
credit  that  he  can  ever  at  any  time  have  been  subject 
to  such  gusts  of  passion.  ‘ From  first  to  last  ’ (proceeds 
the  same  pen), 

‘ I never  knew  any  man  who  had  such  deep  and  almost 
romantic  notions  of  the  claims  of  friendship  and  grati- 
tude. He  never  forgot  any  old  schoolfellow,  or  any  one 
to  whom  he  had  once  become  attracted.  He  was  not, 
as  you  may  suppose,  very  expert  at  games  or  given  to 
them,  but  he  did  not  decline  them.’ 

At  Cosgrove, — (it  was  no  doubt  one  of  the  many  silken 
threads  which  bound  him  to  his  home), — his  Mother  con- 
siderately provided  him  with  a little  room  to  himself, 
where  he  might  pursue  his  studies  without  interruption. 
It  adjoined  the  sitting-room,  and  his  sisters  recall  with 
interest  her  solicitude  that  the  conversation,  for  his  sake, 
should  be  carried  on  in  a somewhat  subdued  tone. 


1837]  The  Christian  Philosopher. 


161 


The  years  spent  at  Merchant  Taylors’  were  a period 
of  his  life  to  which  the  future  Dean  of  S.  Paul’s  always 
looked  back  with  great  affection  and  interest.  His 
regard  for  his  old  Master  continued  unabated  to  the 
last,  and  was  heartily  reciprocated.  On  achieving  any 
honourable  distinction,  or  obtaining  any  fresh  accession 
of  dignity,  he  always  delighted  to  communicate  the  in- 
telligence among  the  first  to  Mr.  Bellamy, — the  constant 
friend  of  his  early  years ; confident  of  receiving  from 
him  a hearty  response  and  words  of  sincerest  sympathy. 
From  time  to  time  a little  visit  was  planned,  which  was 
at  least  as  gratifying  to  the  Master  as  to  the  former 
pupil. 

‘ In  those  days  ’ (writes  his  friend  Archd.  Hessey,  with 
reference  to  the  period  embraced  by  the  years  1830-9), 

‘ A constant  intercourse  was  maintained  between  the 
College  and  the  School,  and  great  interest  was  felt  in 
the  particular  boys  who  were  likely  to  proceed  to  S. 
John’s.  Very  early  in  his  career,  MansePs  repute  reached 
us.  Though  comparatively  low  down  in  the  school,  he 
had  been  a writer  in  the  ^School  Magazine’  in  1832-3, 
and  was  generally  spoken  of  as  thoughtful  and  scholar- 
like beyond  his  years.  As  time  went  on  we  heard  more 
and  more  of  him.’ 

Here,  certain  reminiscences  of  Mansel  as  a schoolboy, 
from  the  pen  of  one  of  his  school-fellows  (the  Bev. 
Leopold  Bernays)  will  be  perused  with  interest : — 

‘ I did  not  know  him  intimately  until  the  last  two 
years  of  our  school  time  together, — from  the  middle  of 
1837  to  the  June  of  1839, — in  which  year  we  were  both 
elected  to  Scholarships  at  S.  John’s.  There  was,  during 
the  greater  part  of  that  time,  a close  intimacy  between 
our  families,  and  I knew  thoroughly  all  that  was  going 
on  in  his  mind  both  at  School  and  at  College.  We  were 

VOL.  II.  M 


1 62  Henry  Longueville  Hansel:  [1837 

alike  devoted  to  the  reading  of  Poetry,  and  the  composi- 
tion of  verses  of  our  own : always  comparing  notes  with 
one  another,  and  mutually  affording  each  other  such 
help  and  criticism  as  we  could.  Mansel  published  a 
little  volume  of  Poems  when  he  was  seventeen,  of  more 
than  schoolboy  merit,  which  made  him  a sort  of  school 
hero.  And  although  he  never  took  to  writing  poetry  as 
a serious  occupation,  he  had  great  power  of  expression, 
was  an  elegant  versifier,  and  possessed  very  considerable 
humour,  which  superseded  the  somewhat  severe  tone  of 
his  earlier  writings.  . . . His  literary  tastes  were  even 
then  remarkable.  He  spent  all  his  pocket-money  on 
books,  and  possessed  quite  a large  library  of  the  English 
Poets.  He  sought  after  all  the  less-known  writers  at 
every  book-stall.  I often  assisted  him  in  hunting  for 
scarce  volumes.  He  had  such  a wonderful  memory,  that 
we  used  to  say  of  him  at  school  that  if  all  the  English 
Poets  were  lost,  Mansel  would  be  able  to  reproduce  them. 
He  was  always  a great  reader,  and  had  few  tastes  to 
draw  him  off.’^  ‘Already  was  he  noted  for  the  jocular 
epigrammatic  power,  which  he  retained  through  life. 
His  classical  work  of  all  kinds  he  got  through  with 
much  ease ; and  by  consequence  had  so  much  time  at 
his  disposal,  that  those  about  him  half  thought  he  must 
be  idle,  until  they  were  undeceived  by  finding  that  he 
knew  what  he  had  spent  one  hour  upon,  as  well  as  they 
did  what  had  cost  them  two.’  ^ 

It  should  also  be  recorded  concerning  this  same  early 
period  of  his  life,  (namely,  when  he  was  a boy  of  16  or 
17,)  that  he  had  already  developed  the  same  strong 
political  predilections, — had  already  exhibited  the  same 
metaphysical  tastes, — which  characterized  his  maturer 
years.  His  school  friends  remember  his  eager  youthful 
‘ Toryism.’  A little  poem  in  14  stanzas,  entitled  ‘ The 
Thought  Meter ^ written  at  this  time,  remains  a witness  to 
his  intellectual  tendencies.  It  purports  to  be, 

^ Letter  from  Eev.  LeopoldJ.  Bernays,  Eector  of  Stanmore, — Feb.  1874. 

* From  Archdeacon  Hessey. 


1838]  The  Christian  Philosopher.  163 

‘A  vision  of  Earth’s  nothingness 
And  Mind’s  infinity.’ 

and  ends, 

‘ Thus  shall  each  hand  be  withering, 

Thus  shall  each  scroll  be  furl’d, 

That  telleth  of  a real  thing 
Within  a passing  world.’ ^ 

The  poetical  venture  already  spoken  of,  which  is  in- 
scribed on  its  title-page — ‘ The  Demons  of  the  Wmd,  and 
other  Poems,  by  Henry  Longueville  Mansel  ’ ^ — extends 
to  120  pages,  (of  which  the  first  52  are  occupied  by  ‘ the 
Demons,'’)  and  contains  in  all  twenty-five  short  poetical 
essays  of  various  degrees  of  merit.  All  however  are 
promising,  and  show  besides  entire  mastery  of  versifica- 
tion, much  sweetness,  tenderness,  and  even  power.  He 
was  18  years  of  age  when  this  little  volume,  the  first- 
fruits  of  the  coming  harvest,  made  its  appearance,  and 
to  some  limited  extent  must  have  made  its  author 
known. 

Here  it  is  necessary  to  go  back  two  or  three  years,  in 
order  to  relate  that  the  current  of  Henry’s  life  which 
had  flowed  on  so  unrufiled,  was  suddenly  darkened  by  an 
event  which  at  once  broke  up  the  home  of  his  boyhood, 
and  scattered  the  shining  circle  which  till  then  had  been 
the  light  of  Cosgrove  Kectory.  His  Father  died  some- 
what unexpectedly  in  the  March  of  1835,  aged  52  years. 
As  soon  as  danger  was  apprehended,  the  boy  was  sent 
for  from  school.  He  at  once  travelled  down  by  the 

® These  verses  appeared  in  a so  much  better  expressed  than  I 
literary  effort  of  the  friend  of  could  hope  to  express  them,  that 
his  boyhood,  Eev.  L.  J.  Bernays,  I could  not  refrain  from  asking  the 
by  whom  they  are  thus  introduced : Author’s  permission  to  insert  it 

— ‘ The  spirit  and  execution  of  this  among  my  own  poems.’ 
little  poem  agree  so  fully  with  my  ® London,  J.  'W.  Southgate,  164 
own  notions  on  the  subject,  and  are  Strand,  1838. 

M 2 


164  Henry  Longueville  Mansel:  [1835 

Stony  Stratford  coach,  which  used  to  pass  within  two 
miles  of  the  Rectory ; and  some  can  yet  recall  the 
anxious  face  with  which  (bag  in  hand)  he  was  soon  to  be 
seen  hastily  traversing  the  little  dip  in  the  road  about 
half  a mile  from  his  Father  s door.  But  he  arrived  too 
late  to  behold  alive  the  parent  whom  he  loved  so  well. 

This  event  it  was  that  acquainted  Henry  with  that 
sense  of  responsibility  which  for  the  first  time  makes  life 
appear  in  a young  man’s  eyes  the  grave  reality  which  it 
is  presently  found  to  be.  He  was  now  in  his  fifteenth 
year.  The  desire  to  enter  the  Ministry  henceforth  pre- 
dominated with  him, — became  the  fixed  object  and 
purpose  of  his  striving, — shaped  his  aims  and  regulated 
his  studies.  To  his  great  satisfaction,  it  was  arranged 
that  his  Mother  should  ultimately  return  to  reside  at 
Cosgrove, — a house  in  the  village  having  been  be- 
queathed expressly  for  her  use.  But,  for  the  moment, 
having  nominated  a successor  to  the  Rectory,  Mrs. 
Mansel  went  to  live  at  Cheltenham.  Thence  she  re- 
moved to  Buckingham, — and  thence,  in  1837,  to  the 
village  of  Emberton,  in  the  same  county.  At  the  end  of 
another  year  (viz.  in  1838),  she  made  London  her 
residence,  in  order  to  afford  a home  to  her  two  sons,  the 
younger  of  whom  (Robert  Stanley)  was  now  also  entered 
at  Merchant  Taylors’  School.  Henry  at  once  left  Mr. 
Bellamy’s  for  his  mother’s  house,  and  continued  ’to 
attend  as  a day  scholar  up  to  the  period  of  his  leaving 
the  school  in  1839.  In  1842  Mrs.  Mansel  went  back  to 
Cosgrove,  where  she  resided  till  her  death.  But  this  is 
again  to  anticipate. 

The  period  of  Henry’s  residence  at  Merchant  Taylors’ 
has  been  already  touched  upon.  It  was  nothing  else  but 
a series  of  youthful  successes.  In  1838,  he  won  the  chief 


1 839]  The  Christian  Philosopher.  165 

prize  for  English  Verse.  At  the  close  of  the  same  year, 
a medal  was  founded  by  Sir  Moses  Montefiore  for  the 
encouragement  of  the  study  of  Hebrew,  which  had 
always  been  cultivated  in  the  school.  Every  voice 
suggested  that  ‘ Mansel  ’ would  be  the  one  to  carry  off 
the  new  distinction  ; and  win  it  he  did,  and  easily.  But 
he  deserved  his  success,  for  (with  his  habitual  ardour)  he 
resorted  to  a Rabbi  for  assistance,  and  toiled  hard  at  the 
language.  The  following  anecdote,  belonging  to  a sub- 
sequent period  of  his  life,  aptly  indicates  with  what 
zeal  the  youth  applied  himself  to  this  new  problem  ; or 
rather,  how  far  beneath  the  surface  he  suffered  his 
inquiries  to  carry  him.  Referring  to  his  ‘ erudltio  prope- 
modum  universa^"'^  Archd.  Hessey  writes: — 

“ I will  give  you  a curious  instance.  In  Bythner’s 
Hebrew  Grammar,  (which  I was  editing  in  1853),  oc- 
curred, in  the  Chapter  I)e  Nomine^ — ‘ Genitivus  pluralis, 
reflexus  super  suum  nominativum,  singularem  importat 
excellentiam,  — aiunt  Colonienses  m Rispanum!  The 
meaning  of  the  rule  was  clear  enough,  ‘ vanitas  vanifMum' 
being  an  instance  of  it.  But  what  did  the  reference 
mean  h I asked  Dr.  Pusey,  who  said  he  could  not  even 
guess.  I then  asked  Mansel.  He  said  at  once, — ‘ Depend 
upon  it,  the  allusion  is  to  the  Doctors  of  Cologne,  who 
controverted  a grammatical  rule  laid  down  by  Petrus 
Hispanus,  as  to  the  import  of  such  phrases.’  ...  I believe 
he  was  right.”  ^ 

From  Merchant  Taylors’,  Henry  Mansel  went  up  for 
matriculation  to  S.  John’s  as  a Scholar  (or  Probationary 
Fellow)  June  nth,  1839,  having  carried  off  not  merely 
the  Hebrew  medal,  but  two  (of  the  four)  chief  Classical 
prizes  awarded  that  year, — those,  namely,  for  Greek 
verse  and  for  Latin  verse. 

See  below,  p.  232,  note  (3).  confirms  this  view: — “ It  is  the 

® M.  Neubauer  of  the  Bodleian  School  of  Cologne  on  Petrus  His- 
(to  whom  I referred  the  question)  panus’s  Logic, — (not  Grammar).” 


1 66  Henry  Longueville  Hansel:  [1839 

‘ Of  the  other  two  chief  Prizes,  that  for  Greek  prose  was 
awarded  to  F.  H.  Cox,  afterwards  Dean  of  Hobart  Town, 
Tasmania ; that  for  Latin  prose,  to  Paul  Parnell,  who 
was  elected  to  S.  John’s  at  the  same  time  with  Mansel, 
and  obtained  the  same  honours  at  his  B.A.  Degree.  Both 
of  these  were  men  of  distinguished  ability.  The  latter 
died  early,  while  on  his  voyage  out  to  assume  the  office 
of  Crown  Solicitor  for  the  Perth  District,  Western 
Australia.’  ® 

‘ The  addition  of  such  a youth  to  our  College  society 
caused  some  sensation,  and  we  were  ready  to  “ greet 
with  present  grace  and  great  prediction  ” ^ one  of  whom 
we  had  heard  so  favourably.  I remember  looking  at 
him  with  curiosity,  and  being  much  struck  with  his 
quiet  thoughtful  manner,  and  the  good-humoured  ex- 
pression of  his  lower  features  which  tempered  the 
gravity  of  his  massive  brow.’^ 


Hansel’s  connection  with  Oxford  as  a resident,  which 
thus  began  by  his  becoming  a Scholar  of  S.  John’s 


® Fluslied  with  youthful  indig- 
nation and  excited  spirits, — Paul 
Parnell  was  seen  for  the  last  time 
by  many  besides  the  present  writer, 
leading  a famous  demonstration  in 
the  Sheldonian  Theatre  (at  the 
Encaenia  of  1843),  against  an  un- 
popular Proctor, — ‘ I see  you,  Mr. 
Parnell!’ — ‘Yes,  sir,  and  I see 
you,''  (shaking  his  fist  at  him), 
‘ and  you  must  leave  the  Theatre.’ — 
The  disastrous  consequences  might 
have  been  foreseen, — but  they  were 
deplored  by  the  whole  University. 
The  following  sad  inscription  on  a 
stained  window,  (S.  John’s  Church, 
Fitzroy  Square,)  is  the  only  record 
I ever  met  with  of  the  end  of  one 
whose  abilities  were  of  the  very 
highest  order  ; — whose  moral  worth 
won  him  the  esteem  and  regard  of 
all ; — and  who  gave  promise  of  a 
great  and  brilliant  career  : — ‘In 


memory  of  Paul  Parnell,  B.C.L. 
Born  22nd  Dec.  1820.  Died  Nov. 
1 2 1852,  once  Fellow  of  S.  John's 

College,  Oxford.  Buried  in  the 
great  deep,  Nov.  12th,  1852.’  Those 
words  quite  accidentally  caught  my 
eye,  when  I happened  to  be  in  the 
Church  above  named,  and  trans- 
ported me  back  in  thought  some 
20  years  to  the  scene  I began  by 
describing.  — Paul  Parnell  would 
have  been  a tower  of  strength  to 
the  Conservative  cause  had  he  lived. 
His  eloquence  and  debating  power 
at  the  Union  (of  which  he  was 
Treasurer  in  1842)  are  still  remem- 
bered at  Oxford  with  admiration. 
....  When  Mansel  casually  men- 
tioned Parnell’s  name  many  years 
after,  it  was  observed  that  his  eyes 
instantly  filled  with  tears. 

1 Macbeth,  Act  I.  Scene  3. 

^ Letter  from  Archd.  Hessey. 


1839]  The  Christian  Philosopher. 


167 


College  in  1839,  continued  unbroken  for  a period  of 
thirty  years.  Once  only  (namely  in  1865)  was  he 
obliged  to  submit  to  a few  months’  absence,  in  conse- 
quence of  excessive  mental  labour.  Profoundly  conscious 
from  the  beginning,  that  on  his  own  exertions  he  would 
have  to  depend  for  his  livelihood,  he  entered  on  his 
academical  course  with  a degree  of  determination  and  an 
amount  of  industry  which  have  seldom  been  equalled, — 
never  surpassed.  His  thirst  for  knowledge,  which  in- 
creased with  his  proficiency,  added  intensity  to  the 
ardour  of  his  pursuit.  At  the  same  time,  the  thorough- 
ness of  his  character  constrained  him,  in  the  matter  of 
his  studies,  (as  in  all  other  things,)  to  put  up  with  no 
superficial  knowledge,  but  to  master  every  subject  com- 
pletely. His  former  schoolfellow  at  Merchant  Taylors’, 
now  his  brother-scholar  at  S.  John’s,  thus  writes  con- 
cerning Mansel  at  this  period  of  his  life : — 

‘ From  the  day  that  our  College  life  began,’  (in  the 
October  Term  of  1839),  ‘he  laid  down  for  himself  a 
course  of  reading,  from  which,  as  to  hours  and  duration, 
he  rarely  if  ever  swerved.  He  rose  very  early.  At  first, 
he  and  I met  before  6 in  the  morning : but  my  resolution 
soon  failed ; while  he,  if  he  made  any  change,  rose 
earlier.’ 

It  is  related  of  him  by  one  who  was  Fellow  and 
Tutor  of  the  College,  that  he  was  never  absent  from 
morning  Chapel,  and  was  constant  in  his  attendance  at 
Holy  Communion.  For  a while,  he  rose  to  work  at 
4 o’clock,  and  it  was  only  in  consequence  of  urgent 
remonstrance, — (he  was  manifestly  injuring  his  health, 
though  he  retired  to  rest  early  and  seldom  read  in  the 
evening,) — that  he  returned  to  the  more  reasonable  hour 
of  6.  He  established  at  this  time  an  alarum-clock, — of 
which  the  weight,  in  descending,  pulled  off*  his  bed- 


1 68  Henry  Longueville  Mae  see:  [1840 

clothes  and  woke  him.  His  Hebrew  studies  he  was  con- 
strained for  awhile  to  discontinue,  and  to  defer  until 
after  his  degree ; considering,  not  unreasonably,  that 
Classics  and  Mathematics, — (for  he  aspired  to  distinction 
in  both,) — were  enough  to  occupy  his  whole  attention. 

Let  it  not  be  supposed  however  that  he  shunned 
society.  On  the  contrary.  He  entered  into  it  with  the 
keenest  zest,  and  was  the  life  of  every  company  in  which 
he  was  found.  Full  of  anecdote,  his  ready  wit  and 
powers  of  repartee  as  well  as  of  grave  argument  and 
sustained  disputation,  caused  him  to  be  much  courted, 
whether  for  genial  or  for  serious  gatherings.  But  the 
thing  he  supremely  enjoyed  was  a walk  with  some 
clever  and  studious  friend,  of  about  the  same  standing 
with  himself.  On  such  occasions,  he  would  discuss  what 
they  had  been  lately  reading,  illustrating  it  to  his 
companion’s  astonishment  by  an  amount  of  knowledge, 
— how  and  when  acquired,  the  other  was  at  a loss  even 
to  imagine. 

For  the  last  two  years  of  his  academical  career,  Mansel 
read  Logic  and  Moral  Science  privately  with  Hessey; 
who  speedily  made  the  discovery  which  so  many  Oxford 
‘ coaches  ’ have  made  before  and  since, — namely,  that 
the  greater  had  come  for  help  to  the  less  ; that  the 
Teacher  was  destined  not  unfrequently  to  be  the  learner ; 
and  that  the  (so-called)  pupil  was  in  reality  fitter  to 
occupy  the  Teacher’s  chair.  He  writes  : — 

‘ By  the  beginning  of  his  third  year  of  residence,  he 
had  gone  over  most  of  his  books  and  subjects  for  the 
second  time  : had  thoroughly  mastered  his  Greek  and 
Latin  Poets,  and  delighted  in  supplying  parallel  passages 
from  English  sources.  Herodotus,  Thucydides,  the  first 
two  Books  of  Xenophon’s  “ Hellenica,''  with  portions  of 
Livy  and  Tacitus,  he  had  at  his  fingers’  ends.’ — ‘ His 


1841]  The  Christian  Philosopher.  169 

memory,’  (writes  Mr.  Bernays)  ‘ which  seemed  to  increase 
in  power  during  his  College  career,  was  marvellous.  We 
often  amused  ourselves  hy  picking  out  very  obscure 
personages  and  incidents,  and  testing  his  memory  by 
them.  He  would  tell  us  where  each  was  mentioned, 
whether  on  the  right  or  the  left-hand  page.  This 
wonderful  power  undoubtedly  stood  him  in  good  stead, 
and  contributed  much  to  his  great  success  in  taking  his 
degree:  but, — what  is  seldom  the  case, — he  combined 
with  this  minuteness  of  recollection  great  generalizing 
power ; could  bring  his  facts  to  one  focus  and  assign  to 
each  of  them  its  due  weight  and  proportion.  Not  dis- 
cursive in  his  reading,  he  avoided  a fault  into  which 
many  fall  at  this  period  of  their  studies.  He  was  fond 
of  comparing  ancient  and  modern  governments ; and 
not  merely  knew  Dr.  Arnold’s  or  Niebuhr’s  theories,  but 
was  continually  finding  out  fresh  applications  of  them. 
His  portfolio  was  full  of  essays  and  memoranda  on  the 
Polity,  Finance,  Migrations,  domestic  habits,  of  the 
nations  of  Antiquity : a map  of  every  region, — a plan 
of  every  great  battle, — an  epitome  of  every  speech — 
occurring  in  his  books,  together  with  genealogies  of  every 
dynasty.  Among  others,  an  elaborate  paper  upon  the 
Roman  numerals  has  been  preserved.  His  classical 
composition  gave  evidence  of  great  taste,  and  of  singular 
facility  of  imitation  of  the  best  masters  of  style.’ 

What  follows  (from  Archd.  Hessey)  is  more  interesting, 
and  a vast  deal  more  characteristic  of  the  man : — 

‘ He  generally  brought  with  him  a list  of  enquiries  on 
matters  which  had  struck  him,  and  about  which  he  had 
to  be  satisfied  before  he  could  go  on.  It  was  indeed  a 
striking  peculiarity  of  his  mind,  that  he  was  unable  to 
proceed  unless  sure  of  his  position.  In  the  course  of  a 
lecture,  I often  perceived  that  his  thoughts  were  not 
with  mine.  His  air  was  troubled  and  his  brow  over- 
cast. On  such  occasions,  I stopped  abruptly.  He  would 
then  tell  me  that  he  was  not  convinced  as  to  the  grounds 
of  a certain  statement ; or  that  such  and  such  objections 
were  weighing  upon  his  mind.  It  was  necessary  to 


170  Henry  Longueville  Mansel:  [1842 

recommence  the  argument.  On  his  difficulties  being  re- 
moved, his  attention  returned,  and  we  proceeded  smoothly 
together.  At  other  times  I had  to  pause  for  a very 
different  reason.  A gleam  of  almost  indescribable 
humour  would  pervade  his  face.  There  was  something 
in  his  mind  which  must  be  uttered,  pleasantly  connected 
with  the  book  before  us ; perhaps  that  part  of  Aristotle’s 
“ Rhetoric  ” which  abounds  with  shrewd  observations 
upon  human  motives  and  character.  It  turned  out  to 
be  a felicitous  parallel  from  Shakspeare,  or  from  Bacon’s 
colours  of  Good  and  Evil,  or  from  “ Hudihras^'  or  even 
from  Colenso,  or  Father  Prout,  or  the  “ Pickwick  Papers'' 
This  had  struck  him,  and  he  was  obliged  to  give  vent  to 
it, — to  my  very  great  amusement.  But  he  could,  the 
moment  after,  revert  to  the  text  before  us,  dismissing 
every  thought  of  the  digression.’ 

An  ingenuous  admission  follows,  the  like  of  which  has 
many  a time  fallen  from  those  who  have  taught  much  in 
our  Universities : — 

‘ I often  felt  that  I was  learning  more  from  him  than 
I was  able  to  impart,  especially  as  the  time  of  his  Degree 
drew  near.  His  difficulties,  which  were  often  of  a most 
subtle  and  refined  character,  not  unfrequently  suggested 
lines  of  thought  which  I should  otherwise  scarcely 
have  entered  upon.  And  the  ability  which  he  dis- 
played in  his  Essays,  the  clearness  with  which  he  laid 
down  principles,  the  judiciousness  of  his  divisions  of  the 
subject  proposed,  and  the  copious  information  which  he 
brought  to  bear  upon  it, — convinced  me  daily  that  I 
was  dealing  with  no  ordinary  man.  His  industry  was 
scarcely  conceivable.  I have  before  me  his  interleaved 
copy  of  Aristotle’s  Ethics,"  filled  with  materials  gathered 
in  his  private  reading.  His  analyses  of  Plato’s  “ Re- 
public" ^^Laws,"  and  Theaetetus," — of  Aristotle’s  Politics" 
and  of  Butler’s  Analogy," — are  still  preserved.  The  labour 
which  these  analyses  cost  him  must  have  been  enormous, 
exhibiting  as  they  do  not  merely  acquaintance  with  the 
treatises  of  his  authors,  but  acute  discrimination  of  their 


1843]  The  Christian  Philosopher.  171 

main  drift,  as  compared  with  their  excursive  and  inci- 
dental discussions.’ 

In  the  Easter  term  of  1843,  Mansel  was  rewarded  for 
his  laborious  undergraduateship  with  ‘a  double-first.'’ 
Some  may  require  to  have  it  explained  to  them  that  this, 
at  the  period  referred  to,  was  the  highest  attainable 
honour : viz.  a place  in  the  first  Class  as  well  for  Mathe- 
matics as  for  Classics.  The  excellence  of  his  papers  at 
once  decided  his  place  in  the  Class-list  by  the  unanimous 
suffrage  of  the  Examiners : but  it  is  related  that  his 
viva  voce  Examination  somewhat  disappointed  the  Under- 
graduates, who  in  those  days  used  to  throng  the  gallery 
benches  when  a man  of  extraordinary  merit  presented 
himself  for  examination.  The  reason  of  this  is  as  in- 
teresting as  it  is  characteristic. 

The  Examiner  began  by  putting  a question  founded 
on  an  assumption  which  Mansel  was  convinced  was 
false,  and  which  accordingly  he  proceeded  to  combat. 
He  declined  to  accept  the  false  premiss,  and  to  throw 
himself  into  the  Examiner’s  train  of  reasoning.  This 
was  not  what  the  Examiner  wished  for,  or  expected. 
The  plain  English  of  the  matter  is  that  he  was  in- 
competent to  handle  Mansel, — who  (conscious  of  his 
superiority)  insisted  on  holding  his  own.  A protracted 
disputation  was  the  consequence.  Which  of  the  parties 
was  more  to  be  blamed  ? The  youth,  who  forgot  that 
while  he  was  undergoing  his  ‘ viva  voce  ’ it  was  at  his 
peril  that  he  resolutely  wrestled  with  his  Examiner  ? — 
Or  the  Examiner,  who,  with  the  whole  province  of  Moral 
and  Mental  Science  before  him,  persisted  in  harping 
on  his  own  one  idea ; instead  of  shifting  his  ground,  and 
generously  inviting  his  opponent  to  follow  him  into 
any  other  department  of  the  ample  realm,  where  the 


172  Henry  Longueville  Hansel:  [1843 

other  might  have  an  opportunity  of  displaying  his 
known  skill  and  attainments  ? . . . Eew  Oxford  men,  it 
is  thought,  will  hesitate  as  to  their  reply.  Fewer  still, 
it  is  further  believed,  on  recalling  their  own  hour  of 
trial,  will  be  slow  to  exclaim  secretly, — ‘It  was  not 
thus,  certainly,  that  the  Examiner,  in  my  case,  dealt 
with  meV  ...  Be  that  as  it  may,  this  passage  of  arms 
(for  such  it  was)  left  little  time  for  the  examination  in 
History  and  Poetry.  But  it  was  of  no  real  consequence. 
Hansel’s  place  in  the  Class-list  had  been  safe  from  the 
first. 

Could  he  have  carried  out  his  own  wishes  imme- 
diately after  taking  his  degree,  in  1843,  it  is  known  that 
he  would  have  at  once  surrendered  himself  wholly  to 
the  studies  proper  for  the  work  of  the  Ministry,  and  in 
due  course  would  have  undertaken  a parochial  cure. 
But  the  death  of  his  Father  had  imposed  on  him  new 
duties  and  responsibilities. 

The  October  term  found  him  again  in  Oxford ; where 
private  pupils,  from  whom  he  found  it  difficult  to  dis- 
entangle himself,  flocked  to  him.  He  speedily  became 
a famous  and  successful  Teacher.  To  decline  the 
sphere  of  useful  labour  which  thus,  in  a manner,  forced 
itself  upon  him  would  have  been  unreasonable.  Hansel, 
on  the  contrary,  threw  himself  into  it  with  characteristic 
ardour ; and  found  his  reward  in  the  success  which 
attended  his  labours,  and  in  the  intercourse  to  which  it 
led  with  men  of  kindred  pursuits  and  attainments.  At 
the  Christmas  of  1844,  he  was  nevertheless  ordained 
Deacon  ; and  at  the  Christmas  of  the  following  year 
Priest,  by  Dr.  Bichard  Bagot,  Bishop  of  Oxford.  He 
had  resolutely  steered  clear  of  the  great  mistake  of  suf- 
fering his  pupils  to  take  up  all  his  time.  But  he  had 


1844]  The  Christian  Philosopher. 


173 


done  more : he  had  reserved  the  necessary  leisure  for 
preparing  himself  for  what  was  to  be  the  future  busi- 
ness of  his  life.  He  also  applied  himself  vigorously  to 
the  study  of  French  and  German,  with  a view  to  reading 
in  the  originals  books  to  which  he  had  hitherto  only 
had  access  through  translations : — resumed  the  study  of 
Hebrew,  which  he  had  abandoned  for  four  years ; — and 
acquainted  himself  with  the  best  English  Divinity,  be- 
sides studying  the  Apostolical  Fathers  and  Eusebius. 

‘ I have  seen  lately  ’ (writes  Archd.  Hessey)  ‘ his  well- 
worn  copy  of  Eusebius,  filled  with  references  and  re- 
marks which  show  how  diligently  he  had  studied  it, — 
little  imagining  that  he  would  ever  be  called  to  the 
Chair  of  Ecclesiastical  History.  It  was  part  of  his  pre- 
paration for  Holy  Orders  ; the  prospect  of  which  he  had 
from  his  early  youth  kept  steadily  before  himself.  He 
made  it,  besides,  his  daily  practice  to  study  a portion  of 
the  Old  and  of  the  New  Testament.’ 

Such  a course  of  reading  as  is  sketched  in  the  fore- 
going paragraph  would  have  been  in  itself  amply  suffi- 
cient to  tax  to  the  utmost  the  energies  of  any  ordinary 
student.  Hebrew, — French, — German, — are  words  soon 
written  ; but  who  requires  to  be  reminded  of  the  tedious 
process  by  which  alone  familiarity  with  each  language 
is  to  be  acquired  ? Never  however  for  a single  day  did 
Hansel  withdraw  himself  from  his  chosen  province  of 
Moral  and  Mental  Science  : and  he  V7as  at  this  time 
largely  occupied  besides  with  the  work  of  Tuition.  His 
reputation  steadily  increased.  Pupils  of  a high  order  of 
ability  resorted  to  him.  He  was  presently  recognized  as 
the  foremost  Teacher  of  his  time. 

Of  the  pupils  referred  to,  not  a few  have  subsequently 
achieved  for  themselves  honourable  distinction.  The 
most  conspicuous  name  is  that  of  one  who  adorned  the 


174  Henry  Longueville  Hansel:  [1854 

lustre  of  his  birth  by  the  acquisition  of  the  highest  Uni- 
versity honours, — the  Earl  of  Carnarvon.  When  it  was 
resolved,  in  1875,  to  publish  Mansel’s  ^Lectures  on  the 
Gfiostic  Heresies^  the  Earl  with  generous  sympathy  con- 
tributed an  introductory  sketch  of  ‘ the  Work,  Life,  and 
Character’  of  his  friend, — the  first  page  of  which  may 
well  find  place  here.  It  is  a pleasure  to  transcribe  the 
graceful  language  in  which  he  recalls  the  memory  of  his 
College  days  and  of  his  intercourse  (1853-4)  with  the 
subject  of  the  present  Memoir,  who  was  at  that  time  his 
private  Tutor  : — 

‘ My  first  acquaintance  with  Dean  Mansel  was  made 
twenty  years  ago^  at  the  University, — when  he  had 
everything  to  give,  and  I had  everything  to  receive.  As 
I think  of  him,  his  likeness  seems  to  rise  before  me.  In 
one  of  those  picturesque  and  old-world  Colleges, — in 
rooms  which,  if  I remember  rightly,  on  one  side  looked 
upon  the  collegiate  quadrangle  with  its  sober  and  medi- 
tative architecture,  and  on  the  other  caught  the  play 
of  light  and  shade  cast  by  trees  almost  as  venerable,  on 
the  garden  grass  ; — in  one  of  those  rooms,  whose  walls 
were  built  up  to  the  ceiling  with  books,  which,  never- 
theless, overfiowed  on  the  fioor,  and  were  piled  in  masses 
of  disorderly  order  upon  chairs  and  tables  ; — might  have 
been  seen  sitting  day  after  day  the  late  Dean,  then  my 
private  Tutor,  and  the  most  successful  teacher  of  his 
time  in  the  University.  Young  men  are  no  bad  judges 
of  the  capabilities  of  a teacher  ; and  those  who  sought 
the  highest  honours  of  the  University  in  the  Class 
schools  thought  themselves  fortunate  to  secure  instruc- 
tion such  as  he  gave, — transparently  lucid,  accurate,  and 
without  stint,  flowing  on  through  the  whole  morning 
continuously,  making  the  most  complicated  questions 
clear. 

‘ But  if,  as  chanced  sometimes  with  me,  they  returned 
later  as  guests  in  the  winter  evening  to  the  cheery  and 


^ This  was  written  in  1874-5. 


1855]  The  Christian  Philosopher. 


175 


old-fashioned  hospitality  of  the  Common  Room,  they 
might  have  seen  the  same  man,  the  centre  of  conversa- 
tion, full  of  anecdote  and  humour  and  wit,  applying  the 
resources  of  a prodigious  memory  and  keen  intellect  to 
the  genial  intercourse  of  society. 

‘ The  life  of  old  Oxford  has  nearly  passed  away.  New 
ideas  are  now  accepted : old  traditions  almost  cease  to 
have  a part  in  the  existence  of  the  place  ; the  very 
studies  have  greatly  changed,  and — whether  for  good  or 
evil — except  for  the  grey  walls  which  seem  to  upbraid 
the  altered  conditions  of  thought  around  them,  Oxford 
bids  fair  to  represent  modern  Liberalism,  rather  than 
the  “ Church  and  State  ” doctrines  of  the  early  part  of 
the  century.  But  of  that  earlier  creed,  which  was  one 
characteristic  of  the  University,  Dean  Mansel  was  an 
eminent  type.  Looked  up  to  and  trusted  by  his  friends, 
he  was  viewed  by  his  opponents  as  worthy  of  their 
highest  antagonism  ; and  whilst  he  reflected  the  qualities 
which  the  lovers  of  an  older  system  have  delighted  to 
honour,  he  freely  expressed  opinions  which  modern 
Reformers  select  for  their  strongest  condemnation. 

‘ Such  he  was  when  I flrst  knew  him  twenty  years 
ago,— in  the  zenith  of  his  teaching  reputation,  though 
on  the  point  of  withdrawing  himself  from  it  to  a career 
even  more  worthy  of  his  great  abilities.  ...  It  was  then 
that  I formed  an  acquaintance  which  ripened  into  deep 
and  sincere  friendship : which  grew  closer  and  more 
varied  as  life  went  on : over  which  no  shadow  of  varia- 
tion ever  passed  ; and  which  was  abruptly  snapped  at 
the  very  time  when  it  had  become  most  highly  prized.’^ 

While  on  this  subject,  the  reader  will  peruse  with 
interest  the  following  modest  record  of  the  impressions 
retained  by  another  of  Hansel’s  pupils,^  of  the  benefit  he 
derived  from  a very  brief  acquaintance  with  Hansel’s 
teaching  about  this  same  time  : — 

‘ I gained  greatly  by  those  few  weeks  of  his  help  ; the 

* Introduction,  pp.  v— vii, 

® The  Kev.  J ohn  Earle,  Fellow  of  Oriel,  Professor  of  Anglo-Saxon. 


176  Henry  Longueville  Hansel  : [1842 


more  so,  as  I had  got  all  my  work  up  beforehand  in  my 
own  way.  From  what  I can  remember,  I would  say 
that  he  handled  metaphysical  subjects  with  a wonderful 
ease.  This  appeared  in  him  not  by  strong  flights,  but 
by  always  keeping  where  his  pupil  was ; and  taking, 
quite  naturally,  Ms  point  of  view,  even  when  that  view 
was  stupid  or  mistaken.  He  had  also  a beautiful  uni- 
formity of  temper,  which  was  all  part  of  the  same  com- 
plete and  calm  possession  both  of  himself  and  of  his 
subject ; and  which  made  the  force  and  rate  of  progress 
measured  and  deliberately  slow  at  the  time,  but  the  result 
considerable  in  the  ultimate  total.  I seem  to  remember 
even  now  my  frequent  surprise  at  the  striking  of  the 
hour.  What  with  the  occasional  interlude  of  an  amusing 
illustration,  and  his  strong  mind  bearing  one  along,  the 
wheels  of  thought  worked  with  so  little  friction,  that 
there  was  no  fatigue  to  measure  the  time  by.’ 

Another  friend  contributes  a sketch  of  the  man  as  he 
was  known  (1842-54),  and  is  still  fondly  remembered, 
by  his  contemporaries.  It  supplies  some  features  scarcely 
brought  out  by  other  pens,  and  is  sure  to  be  perused 
with  pleasure  : — 

‘ I first  met  Mansel  in  the  year  1842,  at  the  rooms  of 
E.  A.  Freeman,  the  historian.  He  was  still  an  Under- 
graduate,—in  repute  as  a humourist,  and  aspirant  to 
academic  distinction.  I remember,  he  struck  me  as  a 
solid  person,  with  a maturity  of  mental  power  beyond 
his  years.  Subsequently,  when  he  had  become  one  of 
the  most  eminent  and  successful  private  Tutors  in  the 
University,  I was  constantly  in  his  company  in  the 
younger  Common-room  society  of  the  day ; where  his 
geniality  and  flow  of  conversation,  literary  and  jocose, 
made  him  a general  favourite.  We  used  to  be  astonished 
at  his  powers  of  memory,  and  his  intimate  acquaintance 
with  the  whole  range  of  English  literature,  from  Chaucer 
to  Dickens.  Poet  or  philosopher,  novelist  or  chronicler, 
— he  drew  at  will  from  all : and  a quotation,  with  Man- 
sel, was  not  a passage  but  a page. 


177 


1849]  The  Christian  Philosopher. 

‘ In  1 849  he  conte.sted  the  Chair  of  Logic  with  the  late 
Professor  Wall,  and  was  largely  supported.  The  election 
rests  with  Convocation.  I was  able  to  render  him  some 
aid  in  his  canvass.  This  service  he  never  forgot,  and 
from  that  time  our  acquaintance  passed  into  a friendship 
which  continued  without  interruption  until  his  death. 
In  the  various  political  and  academic  contests  of  the 
succeeding  years,  we  were  much  together.  To  these  I 
allude  only  for  the  purpose  of  mentioning  one  charac- 
teristic of  him,  viz.  his  extreme  kindliness  and  sweetness 
of  disposition.  In  a period  of  controversy  he  opposed 
himself  to  parties  and  to  principles, — never  to  persons. 
With  all  his  epigrammatic  power,  I cannot  recall  a 
single  ungenerous  or  ungentle  expression  towards  any 
opponent. 

‘ One  more  phase  in  his  character  must  be  noticed, — 
his  humbleness  of  mind.  He  was  always  ready  to  defer 
to  others,  and  to  weigh  with  patient  attention  the 
opinions  even  of  those  but  little  entitled  to  advance  them. 
In  no  man  could  there  be  less  of  self-assertion.  It  was 
the  same  with  him  in  conversation.  He  never  talked 
for  effect,  or  sought  an  audience  for  the  wit  he  uttered. 
His  most  brilliant  sayings  were  also  the  most  unpre- 
meditated.’ ® 

In  the  interval  between  the  date  of  taking  his  degree 
(Easter  1843),  ^^55?  of  marriage, — in 

addition  to  all  his  other  work.  Hansel’s  pen  was  never 
idle.  In  1847  appeared  his  little  treatise  ‘ On  the  Heads 
of  Predicahles  ’ (pp.  60) : — and  in  1 849,  his  ‘ Artis  Logicae 
Rmlimental — which,  however,  is  nothing  else  but  an  en- 
larged and  annotated  edition  of  Aldrich’s  ‘ Logic.'  This  pro- 
duction was  received  with  much  favour,  as  the  want  of 
such  a work  had  been  long  felt.  It  reached  a second 
edition  in  1852, — a third  in  1856, — a fourth  in  1862. 
In  the  meantime  he  reviewed  ‘ The  Philosophy  of  Language  ’ 

® From  the  Eev.  E.  T.  Turner,  Fellow  of  Brasenose,  Registrar  of  the 
University. — January  3rd,  1874. 

VOL.  II. 


N 


178  Henry  Lonqueville  Hansel:  [1852 


in  the  ^ North  British  Review’  for  Nov.  1850  ; — and  in  the 
ensuing  year  (May  1851),  ^Recent  Eoctensions  of  Formal 
Logic! ^ In  1851  he  also  published  his  ^Prolegomena 
Logica,  a series  of  Psychological  Essays  introductory  to  the 
Science!  It  is  in  fact  an  enquiry  into  the  Psychological 
character  of  Logical  processes.  Of  this  work  a second 
edition  appeared  in  1860. 

Lord  John  Russell’s  Commission,  appointed  (1850)  ‘ to 
inquire  into  the  State,  Discipline,  Studies,  and  Revenues, 
of  the  University  of  Oxford,’  issued  its  Report  in  1852. 
Mansel  made  this  the  occasion  for  his  ‘ inimitable  imita- 
tion ’ (as  it  has  been  wittily  called)  of  Aristophanes, — 
‘ Scenes  from  an  unfinished  Drama  entitled  Phrontisterion  ; 
or  Oxford  m the  igth  Century!  It  is  certainly  the  wittiest 
thing  he  ever  wrote,  and  is  too  well  known  to  require 
praise  or  comment.  Very  reasonably  has  it  been  in- 
cluded in  the  volume  of  Hansel’s  ^ Letters^  Lectures^  and 
Reviews'^  edited  by  his  friend  Chandler  in  1873,  to  which 
reference  has  been  made  already.  The  ^Phro7itisterion\ 
stands  last  in  the  collection.  In  1853  he  addressed  to 
Dr.  Whewell  a letter  (dated  April  12th)  entitled  ’‘The 
Iwiits  of  De^nonstrative  Scieiiee  considered'  (pp.  46): — and 
in  the  next  year  (1854)  appeared  his  examination  of  Mr. 
Maurice’s  ‘ Theory  of  a Fixed  State  out  of  Time!  in  ^ letter 
to  the  friend  of  his  boyhood,  and  late  brother-fellow  at 
S.  John’s,  the  Rev.  Leopold  J.  Bernays.  The  pamphlet 
is  entitled  ‘ Mali's  Conception  of  Eternity ; ’ and,  like  the 
last-mentioned  Letter,  has  been  reprinted  in  the  volume 
of  ’Letters!  &c.,  above  mentioned.  If  I content  myself 
with  a bare  enumeration  of  so  many  thoughtful  pro- 
ductions of  Hansel’s  pen,  it  is  only  because,  first,  the 

Both  are  reprinted  in  Mansel’s  ‘ Letters,  Lectures,  and  Reviews  ’ (1873), 
PP-  3-35 ; 39-76. 


179 


1855]  The  Christian  Philosopher. 

prescribed  limits  of  such  a biographical  sketch  as  the 
present  forbid  the  introduction  of  details ; and  next, 
because  a discussion  of  his  multitudinous  contributions 
to  Philosophical  and  Mental  Science  is  at  any  time 
possible.  The  object  I chiefly  set  before  myself  is,  to  ex- 
hibit and  place  on  record  that  living  image  of  the  man^ 
which  a few  years  hence  will  be  irrecoverable. 

But  no  main  incident  in  Hansel’s  life  may  be  omitted  ; 
and  this  is  the  proper  place  for  recording  that  at  the 
first  election  to  the  Hebdomadal  Council  (Oct.  24th, 
1854),  he  was  returned  at  the  head  of  the  poll  for 
his  division  (that  of  members  of  Convocation),  though  he 
was  the  junior  in  respect  of  standing,  and  of  age,  of 
those  elected.  It  was  a remarkable  compliment, — paid 
to  him  spontaneously  by  the  University;  and  as  such, 
he  felt  it  deeply.  The  other  five  names  were, — James 
B.  Mozley,  Dr.  Lightfoot,  Richard  Michell,  Osborne 
Gordon,  and  Charles  Marriott, — ‘ who  ran  a tie  with 
Mark  Pattison,  but  was  subsequently  returned  by  a 
majority  over  him.’^ 

The  year  1855  brought  with  it  the  happiest  event  of 
Mansel’s  life.  He  was  united  (August  i6th)  to  Charlotte 
Augusta,  third  daughter  of  the  late  Daniel  Taylor,  esq., 
of  Clapham  Common,  Surrey.  A few  thoughtful  words 
of  his  own,  written  at  this  period,  are  sure  to  be  read 
with  pleasure.  We  are  every  one  of  us  sufficiently 
philosophical  to  enter  into  the  sentiments  he  so  grace- 
fully delivers,  though  we  might  find  it  diflicult  to 


® From  the  Eegistrar  of  the  Uni- 
versity (the  Rev.  E.  T.  Turner, Fellow 
of  B,  N.  C.),  who  adds: — ‘‘i8  seats 
were  filled  up,  6 in  each  division  of 


‘ Heads,’  ‘ Professors,’  and  ‘ Mem- 
bers of  Convocation,’  These,  with 
the  V.  C.  and  Proctors,  constitute 
the  whole  Council.” 


N 2 


i8o  Henry  Lonqueville  Hansel:  [1855 

express  our  meaning  with  the  same  tenderness^  truth, 
and  beauty: — 

‘ I have  long  since  been  aware  that  the  reserved  and 
meditative  habits  produced  by  a studious  and  solitary 
life  are  not  favourable, — I do  not  say  to  the  possession, 
but  certainly  to  the  exhibition, — of  such  qualities  as  are 
most  attractive  in  winning  attachment.  No  man,  believe 
me,  is  more  deeply  to  be  pitied  than  one  whose  whole 
training  is  exclusively  intellectual : who  is  practised, 
day  by  day,  in  laborious  exertions  of  the  thinking 
faculties,  with  no  corresponding  opportunities  for  the 
development  of  the  feelings  and  affections,  which  were 
designed  by  God  to  bear  their  part  in  the  formation  of 
human  character.  Such  training  can  but  mar  and  muti- 
late the  living  soul  of  God’s  Creation,  to  put  in  its  place 
a lifeless  and  distorted  image  of  Man’s  fashioning;  in 
parts  overgrown  and  monstrous,  in  parts  stunted  and 
dried  up  ...  . There  is  but  one  remedy  for  this.  The 
affections  must  be  restored  to  their  proper  place  in  the 
everyday  life,  and  suffered  to  find  their  daily  food  and 
nourishment  in  those  relations  which  God  has  designed 
for  their  development.  I say  but  one  remedy  ” ; for 
even  the  rehgious  feelings  are,  in  their  influence  upon 
the  heart,  moulded  and  modified  by  the  mental  character 
....  When  we  see  how  God  has  graciously  availed  Him- 
self of  human  affection  as  the  type  and  symbol  of  our 
relations  towards  Him : how  the  love  of  a Father  towards 
his  children  is  sanctified  as  the  image  of  God’s  love  to 
Man:  how  the  Husband  is  bidden  to  love  the  Wife  as 
Chkist  loved  the  Church: — we  feel  how  much  more 
fully  and  deeply  these  things  speak  to  the  heart  of  those 
whose  human  affections  have  been  permitted  to  grow, 
and  blossom,  and  bear  fruit ; who  know  how  deep  is 
their  obligation  of  love  and  gratitude  to  that  God  who 
has  given  them  so  much  to  love  on  earth.’ 

Sentiments  sweet  and  just, — sacred  too, — as  those 
which  go  before,  gave  blessed  promise  of  the  happiness 
with  which  he  who  penned  them  was  prepared  to  invest 


1855]  The  Christian  Philosopher.  181 

his  home.  All  who  came  in  contact  with  him  felt  this 
influence.  Servants  were  attracted  by  it ; and  some 
who  remained  in  his  household  throughout  the  period  of 
his  married  life,  could  testify  to  the  blessing  of  serving 
such  a Master.  Greatly  was  he  beloved  by  them,  as 
indeed  he  was  by  all  those  who  came  within  the  sphere 
of  his  personal  attraction.  Truly,  it  was  a bright  and  a 
peaceful  home, — ‘ every  way  pure  and  lovely,’  as  one 
remarks  who  knew  it  best.  His  gentleness,  cheerfulness, 
quiet  playfulness, — above  all,  his  consistently  religious 
life, — imparted  a nameless  charm  to  the  atmosphere  of 
his  daily  existence.  Quiet  fun  too  there  was  in  abund- 
ance, and  not  unfrequently  sparkling  sallies  of  wit ; but 
this  characteristic,  though  it  was  what  chiefly  impressed 
and  fascinated  strangers,  is  observed  to  be  the  feature 
which  does  not  predominate  in  the  memory  of  those  who 
knew  him  most  intimately, — loved  him  most  dearly, — 
lived  with  him  longest. 

These,  when  questioned,  tell  by  preference  of  his  deep 
humility,  ever  esteeming  others  better  than  himself:  of 
his  instinctive  reaching  out  after  the  World  to  come.  It 
was  his  delight  to  dwell  on  the  intellectual  progress 
which  is  in  reserve  for  the  soul  hereafter : the  enlarged 
powers  which  Man’s  future  state  will  inevitably  develop ; 
and  the  prospect  of  having  unfolded  to  him  then  so  much 
of  what  he  longs  to  know,  but  which  at  present  is  shrouded 
from  his  view, — shrouded  in  impenetrable  mystery. 

Mansel  at  the  time  of  his  marriage  entirely  gave  up 
reading  with  private  pupils.  Retaining  his  Tutorship 
at  S.  John’s,  he  also  now  perforce  relinquished  residence 
in  College  for  a home  of  his  own  in  the  ‘ High  Street.’ 
Should  the  day  ever  come, — (and  it  must  be  confessed 
that  it  is  wondrous  slow  in  coming), — when  Englishmen 


1 82  Henry  Longueville  Hansel:  [1855 

will  take  as  much  interest  as  the  people  of  Italy  take  in 
preserving  the  memory  of  the  abodes  of  their  great  men, 
it  will  be  acceptable  that  I should  here  record  that  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Mansel  at  first  occupied  the  house  numbered 
‘ 87  ’ in  High  Street.  Eventually,  No.  86  became  part  of 
the  same  residence,  the  two  houses  being  indifferently 
numbered  ‘87.’^  It  may  be  added  that,  at  S.  John’s, 
Mansel  first  lived  in  rooms  on  the  first  fioor  of  the  middle 
staircase  on  the  south  side  of  the  first  ‘ Quad,’ — facing 
the  Chapel  door.  Next,  he  occupied  the  rooms  on  the  first 
fioor, — entering  from  the  passage  between  the  ‘ Quads  ’ ; 
which  rooms  look  into  both  Quadrangles.  After  resign- 
ing his  Fellowship,  he  lectured  as  Tutor  in  the  ground- 
fioor  rooms  in  the  south-west  corner  of  the  first  ‘ Quad,’ — 
looking  upon  the  terrace.^ 

It  should  be  stated  that  it  was  his  election  (May  17th, 
1855)  to  the  Keadership  in  Moral  and  Metaphysical 
Philosophy  in  Magdalen  College  which  made  him  feel  at 
liberty  to  resign  his  Fellowship  at  S.  John’s,  and  to 
marry.  The  Prselector’s  stipend  had  been  increased 
in  the  February  of  the  same  year  from  the  old  statutable 
payment  to  2Sol.per  annum.  In  1859,  he  became  the  first 
‘ Waynfiete  Professor  ’ in  the  same  department  without 
election,  thereby  vacating  his  Prselectorship : ^ but  it  was 
not  till  the  year  1862  that  he  began  to  receive  the  full 
Professorial  stipend,  namely,  600I.  a year.  In  this  place 
it  may  further  be  mentioned  that  on  the  ground  of  his 
being  ‘ Waynfiete  Professor/  (under  the  Ordinance  of 
i860,)  he  was  re-elected  Professor-fellow  of  S.  John’s  on 
the  8th  April,  1864, — an  event  which  afforded  him  the 
liveliest  satisfaction. 

® It  is  at  present  a warehouse  of  S.  J ohn’s  College, 
for  the  sale  of  ohjets  de  luxe.  ® In  conformity  with  clause  No. 

^ From  Dr.  Bellamy,  President  lo  of  the  College  Ordinance  of  1858. 


1855]  The  Christian  Philosopher.  183 

In  the  beginning  of  the  October  term  (Oct.  23rd, 
1855),  he  delivered  his  inaugural  Lecture  as  ‘Reader  in 
Moral  and  Metaphysical  Philosophy,’  in  the  ante-chapel 
of  Magdalen  College,  ^ in  conformity  with  the  condition 
imposed  by  the  founder  of  that  Lecture : its  title,  ‘ Psy- 
chology, the  Test  of  Aloral  and  Aletaphy steal  Philosophy!  It 
was  immediately  afterwards  published.^  Professor  Earle 
writes, — 

‘ I remember,  though  not  the  particulars,  yet  the 
general  effect  of  that  Lecture  quite  distinctly  now.  It 
was  an  assertion  of  the  reality  and  necessity  of  Psy- 
chology as  a study  and  as  a Science  ; and  it  was  stated 
in  such  strong,  clear,  good  English,  and  lighted  up  with 
such  apposite  illustrations,  that  it  made  the  hearer  feel 
as  if  the  subject  were  altogether  quite  easy  and  familiar, 
— plain  sailing,  in  short.  He  certainly  had  a wonderful 
power  of  presenting  metaphysical  arguments  in  such  a 
manner  as  to  enable  his  hearers  not  only  to  follow,  but 
to  have,  at  least  for  the  time,  a participation  with  him- 
self, and  enjoyment  of  the  train  of  high  thought  which 
he  so  powerfully  manifested.’^ 

In  the  ensuing  year  (1856),  and  in  the  same  locality. 


® A laughable  incident  occurred 
on  the  occasion  referred  to.  The 
ante-chapel  of  Magdalen  is  always 
dark,  and  that  afternoon  happened 
to  be  exceptionally  murky.  Mansel 
could  not  see  to  read  his  manu- 
script, The  President  (Dr.  Bulley) 
ordered  candles, — which  came.  But 
where  to  place  them  ? Mundy  (to 
his  unutterable  disgust), — was  di- 
rected by  the  President  to  hold  the 
candles.  . . . Happily  some  other 
device  was  at  last  hit  upon,  or  there 
is  no  knowing  what  might  have 
been  the  consequences.  [Mundy 


was  the  College  porter, — rather  a 
great  man  in  his  own  account,  and 
quite  a character.] 

* Oxford:  Williatn Graham,  High 
Street : Whittaker  and  Co.,  London, 
1855,  8 VO. — This  inaugural  Lecture 
has  also  been  included  (pp.  125- 
154)  in  the  volume  of  Mansel’s 
"Letters,  Lectures,  and  Reviews,' 
edited  by  Professor  Chandler  in 

1873- 

® From  the  Rev.  John  Earle, 
Fellow  of  Oriel,  Professor  of  Anglo- 
Saxon — dated  ‘ Swans  wick  Rectory, 
Bath,  Jan.  7th,  1874.’ 


184  Henry  Longueville  Hansel:  [1856 

Mansel  delivered  a second  Lecture  (May  2oth),  on  ^TheThi- 
losoRihy  of  Kant’  which  was  published  at  the  time,  and  has 
since  been  reprinted  in  the  volume  so  often  referred  to.  He 
also  wrote  in  1857  the  article  entitled  ^ Met  aj)liy  sics’  in 
the  8th  edition  of  the  ‘ Encyclo2meclia  Britannica’  which 
appeared  in  1862  as  a treatise  on  ^Metaphysics,  or  the 
Fhilosojjhy  of  Consciousness,  Bhenomenal  and  Beal;’ — and  of 
which  a second  edition  was  called  for  in  1866.  It  has 
been  declared  by  a competent  judge  to  be  “the  best 
Manual  on  the  subject  in  our  language.”  In  the  same 
year  (1857)  he  was  appointed  Bampton  Lecturer  for  1858. 
And  now  his  hands  were  full  of  work  indeed.  The 
opportunity  had  at  last  presented  itself  for  dealing  a 
tremendous  blow  at  the  pretentious  Deism  of  the  day, — 
for  exposing  its  essential  imbecility,  its  revolting  de- 
formity,— and  for  practically  reminding  Oxford  men  of 
the  half-forgotten  lessons  of  their  great  teacher.  Bp. 
Butler ; — not  to  say,  for  achieving  for  himself  a great 
reputation.  So  he  girded  himself  up  for  the  conflict  for 
which  he  had  been  so  long  preparing,  with  a proud 
consciousness  that  his  prowess  would  inevitably  be 
crowned  with  success.  Nor  was  he  destined  to  be 
disappointed.  In  the  ensuing  Spring  (viz.  of  1858),  he 
achieved  a triumph  seldom  equalled  and  never  surpassed 
by  any  Bampton  Lecturer.  ‘ From  the  pulpit  of  S. 
Mary’s  ’ (writes  Lord  Carnarvon), — 

‘ He  stepped  at  once  into  the  foremost  rank  of  modern 
Theological  writers ; and  the  classical  Tutor,  the  Pro- 
fessor of  Moral  Philosophy,  however  eminent  locally, 
became  at  once  a power  beyond  the  walls  of  the  Uni- 
versity. From  this  time  he  wielded  an  influence  which 
he  never  lost ; and  which,  had  he  lived,  he  would,  I 
believe,  have  largely  increased.  But  those  Lectures 
were  its  origin.  They  passed  through  several  editions ; 


1858]  The  Christian  Philosopher. 


185 


were  repeatedly  reviewed  and  canvassed  ; and  became 
almost  a text-book  in  the  schools  of  the  University.’  ^ 

The  interest  which  Hansel’s  delivery  of  his  Bampton 
Lectures  excited  in  Oxford  was  extraordinary : the 
strangest  feature  of  the  case  being,  that  those  compo- 
sitions were  so  entirely  ‘ over  the  heads  ’ of  most  of 
those  who  nevertheless  every  Sunday  morning  flocked 
to  S.  Mary’s  to  hear  them.  The  Undergraduates’  gallery, 
which  accommodates  about  half  the  congregation  at 
S.  Mary’s,  was  always  entirely  filled  with  attentive  and 
enthusiastic  listeners  ; but  it  may  be  questioned  if  one  in 
a hundred  was  able  to  follow  the  preacher.  The  young 
men  knew,  of  course,  in  a general  kind  of  way,  what  the 
champion  of  Orthodoxy  was  about.  He  was,  single- 
handed,  contunding  a host  of  unbelievers, — some,  with 
unpronounceable  names  and  unintelligible  theories ; and 
sending  them  flying  before  him  like  dust  before  the 
wind.  And  that  was  quite  enough  for  them.  It  was  a 
kind  of  gladiatorial  exhibition  which  they  were  invited 
to  witness : the  unequal  odds  against  ‘ the  British  lion  ’ 
adding  greatly  to  the  zest  of  the  entertainment ; especi- 
ally as  the  noble  animal  was  always  observed  to  remain 
master  of  the  field  in  the  end.  But,  for  the  space  of  an 
hour,  there  was  sure  to  be  some  desperate  hard  fighting, 
during  which  they  knew  that  Hansel  would  have  to  hit 
both  straight  and  hard : and  that  they  liked.  It  was 
only  necessary  to  look  at  their  Champion  to  be  sure  that 
he  also  sincerely  relished  his  occupation  ; and  this  com- 
pleted their  satisfaction.  So  long  as  he  was  encounter- 
ing his  opponents’  reasoning,  his  massive  brow,  expressive 
features,  and  earnest  manner  suggested  the  image  of 
nothing  so  much  as  resolute  intellectual  conflict,  com- 
bined with  conscious  intellectual  superiority.  But  the 

® Introduction, — p.  x. 


i86  Henry  Longueville  Mansel  : [1858 

turning-point  was  reached  at  last.  He  would  suddenly 
erect  his  forefinger.  This  was  the  signal  for  the  final 
decisive  charge.  Resistance  from  that  moment  was 
hopeless.  Already  were  the  enemy’s  ranks  broken.  It 
only  remained  to  pursue  the  routed  foe  into  some  remote 
corner  of  Germany,  and  to  pronounce  the  Benediction. 

The  object  which  Mansel  set  before  himself  in  his 
‘ Bamjoton  Lectures  ’ was  essentially  that  which  Bp.  Butler 
had  in  view  when  he  wrote  his  immortal  ‘ Analogy  of 
^Religion,  Natural  and  Revealed^  to  the  Constitution  and 
Course  of  Nature'.  He  exposes  the  worthlessness  of  the 
objections  which  have  been  urged  against  Christianity, 
— he  does  not  undertake  to  prove  that  the  Religion  is 
true.  He  clears  the  ground  for  the  production  of  the 
proper  Evidences,  and  shows  that  Religion  may  he  true 
notwithstanding  the  objections  which  have  been  brought 
against  it.  The  exhibition  in  detail  of  the  direct 
Evidences  of  Christianity  he  leaves  to  others.  Hansel’s 
method  is  to  ascertain  and  assign  ‘ the  Limits  of  Religious 
Thought  I He  begins  by  proposing  the  question, — 

‘ Does  there  exist  in  the  human  mind  any  direct 
faculty  of  religious  knowledge,  by  which,  in  its  specu- 
lative exercise,  we  are  enabled  to  decide,  independently 
of  all  external  Revelation,  what  is  the  true  nature  of 
God,  and  the  manner  in  which  He  must  manifest  Him- 
self to  the  world  ; and  by  which,  in  its  critical  exercise, 
we  are  entitled  authoritatively  to  decide  for,  or  against, 
the  claims  of  any  professed  Revelation, — as  containing 
a true,  or  a false,  representation  of  the  Divine  Nature 
and  Attributes  % ’ 

Mansel  demonstrates  (in  his  third  Lecture)  that  no 
such  faculty  exists.  His  great  achievement  is  the  proof 
he  furnishes  (chiefly  in  that  place)  that  ‘ the  human 
mind  inevitably,  and  by  virtue  of  its  essential  constitu- 


1858]  The  Christian  Philosopher.  187 

tion,  finds  itself  involved  in  self-contradictions  whenever 
it  ventures  on  certain  courses  of  speculation.’  In  the 
words  of  Canon  Liddon  (preaching  on  the  morrow  of 
the  Dean’s  funeral^, — Aug.  6th,  1871,) — - 

‘ He  insists  that  Keason,  when  cross- questioned,  is 
bound  on  her  own  terms  and  in  her  own  interest  to 
make  room  for  Revelation.  The  constant  effort  of 
Reason,  especially  when  engaged  in  making  war  on 
Revelation,  is  to  claim  to  reign  over  the  whole  field  of 
possible  religious  thought  and  faith ; — to  have  a sen- 
tence, whether  of  countenance  or  of  disapproval,  to  utter 
upon  every  proposition  which,  upon  whatever  authority, 
can  come  before  her.  It  is  this  claim  which  Mansel 
disputes.  . . . He  shows  by  a subtle  and  vigorous  analysis 
that  the  human  mind  cannot  of  itself  attain  to  any  posi- 
tive conception  of  the  nature  of  an  Absolute  and  Infinite 
Being : that  the  very  fundamental  laws  of  our  mental 
consciousness,  when  closely  examined,  prevent  this.’  ^ 

But  let  us  hear  the  Metaphysician’s  own  account : — 

‘ What  then  ’ (he  asks)  ‘ is  the  practical  lesson  which 
these  Lectures  are  designed  to  teach  concerning  the 
right  use  of  Reason  in  religious  questions  ? and  what 
are  the  just  claims  of  a reasonable  Faith,  as  distinguished 
from  a blind  credulity  ? 

‘ In  the  first  place,  it  is  obvious  that,  if  there  is  any 
object  whatever  of  which  the  human  mind  is  unable  to 
form  a clear  and  distinct  conception,  the  inability 
equally  disqualifies  us  for  proving  or  for  disproving  a 
given  doctrine,  in  all  cases  in  which  such  a conception 
is  an  indispensable  condition  of  the  argument.  If,  for 
example,  we  can  form  no  positive  notion  of  the  Nature 
of  God  as  an  Infinite  Being,  we  are  not  entitled  either  to 
demonstrate  the  mystery  of  the  Trinity  as  a necessary 
property  of  that  Nature,  or  to  reject  it  as  necessarily 
inconsistent  therewith.  Such  mysteries  clearly  belong, 
not  to  Reason,  but  to  Faith ; and  the  preliminary 
inquiry  which  distinguishes  a reasonable  from  an  un- 
reasonable belief,  must  be  directed, — not  to  the  premisses 
by  which  the  doctrine  can  be  proved  or  disproved,  as 


i88  Henry  Longueville  Hansel  : [1858 

reasonable  or  unreasonable,  but — to  the  nature  of  the 
authority  on  which  it  rests,  as  revealed  or  unrevealed.’ ^ 
(Preface^  p.  xi.) 

The  abandonment  of  the  Philosophy  of  the  Absolute 
inevitably  conducts  us  to  Mansel’s  favourite  (and  un- 
deniable) position,  that  the  distinctive  character  of 
religious  truths, — beginning  with  Man’s  conception  of 
God, — is  ‘ regulative  not  speculative!  In  other  words,  not 
the  satisfaction  of  the  intellect, — (for  that  indeed  is 
demonstrably  impossible,) — but  the  moulding  of  the 
affections,  the  instruction  of  the  heart,  the  schooling  of 
the  will,  has  clearly  been  the  object  in  view  in  the  Revela- 
tion Avhich  God  has  made  to  us  concerning  Himself. 

The  problem  of  the  Divine  Morality,  on  which  Deists 
hold  themselves  at  liberty  freely  to  dogmatize,  inevit- 
ably comes  in  for  discussion  in  the  ‘ Bampton  Lectures! 
‘ The  human  mind  ’ (writes  one)  ‘ is  competent  to  sit 
in  moral  and  spiritual  judgment  on  a professed  Revela- 
tion ; and  to  decide,  if  the  case  seem  to  require  it,  in  the 
following  tone : — This  doctrine  attributes  to  God  that 
which  we  should  all  call  harsh,  cruel,  or  unjust,  in  Man. 
It  is  therefore  intrinsically  inadmissible.’  One  would 
have  supposed  that  Butler’s  famous  observations  on  the 
same  subject  had  by  this  time  been  sufficiently  long 
before  the  world  to  prevent  the  risk  of  serious  misappre- 
hension when  reproduced  in  different  language  by  such 
an  one  as  Henry  Mansel.  But  the  fact  proves  to  be 
otherwise.  He  remarks  in  the  way  of  explanation  : — 

* It  is  a fact  which  experience  forces  upon  us,  and 
which  it  is  useless,  were  it  possible,  to  disguise, — that 
the  representation  of  God  after  the  model  of  the  highest 
human  morality  which  we  are  capable  of  conceiving,  is 
not  sufficient  to  account  for  all  the  phenomena  exhibited 

® In  Butler’s  words, — ‘Objections  guislied  from  objections  against  its 
against  Christianity,  as  distin-  Evidence,  are  frivolous.’ 


1858]  The  Christian  Philosopher.  189 

by  the  course  of  His  natural  Providence.  The  infliction 
of  physical  suffering, — the  permission  of  moral  evil, — 
the  adversity  of  the  good, — the  prosperity  of  the  wicked, 
— the  crimes  of  the  guilty  involving  the  misery  of  the 
innocent, — the  tardy  appearance  and  partial  distribution 
of  moral  and  religious  knowledge  in  the  world, — these 
are  facts  which,  no  doubt,  are  reconcilable,  we  know  not 
how,  with  the  inflnite  Goodness  of  God  ; but  which 
certainly  are  not  to  be  explained  on  the  supposition 
that  its  sole  and  sufficient  type  is  to  be  found  in  the 
finite  goodness  of  Man.  What  right  then  has  the 
philosopher  to  assume  that  a criterion  which  admits  of 
so  many  exceptions  in  the  facts  of  Nature,  may  be 
applied  without  qualification  or  exception  to  the  state- 
ments of  Kevelation  ? ’ — [Preface,  pp.  xiii,  xiv.) 

Mansel,  in  fact,  has  done  for  his  own  generation  what 
Butler  did  for  his : and  this  will  someday  be  universally  ad- 
mitted. In  the  words  of  the  late  Arthur  West  Haddan, — 

“We  gladly  recognise  in  Mr.  Mansel’s  work  another 
Chapter  of  Bishop  Butler’s  great  argument  ably  worked 
out, — a third  Part  of  the  Bishop’s  immortal  work.  We 
find  there  an  Analogy  between  the  phenomena  of  Philo- 
sophy and  Theology,  applied  with  a masterly  hand  both 
to  demolish  philosophical  objections  to  the  latter,  and  to 
establish  in  both  the  true  limits  of  the  sphere  of  Reason 
in  dealing  with  them.”^ 

The  publication  of  these  Lectures  on  ‘ the  Limits  of 
Religious  Thought  ’ produced  an  immense  sensation, — not 
only  in  England,  but  also  on  the  Continent  and  in 
America,  where  they  were  reprinted.  Two  editions 
were  called  for  in  1858,  and  two  more  in  1859.  A 
fifth  edition  appeared  in  1867.  The  ferment  they  occa- 
sioned in  the  Theological  as  well  as  in  the  Philosophical 
world  has  not  yet  in  fact  wholly  subsided.  Their  germ 
(as  the  Author  states  in  his  Preface)  is  contained  in  the 
great  principle  of  Sir  William  Hamilton’s  Philosophy, 
® ‘Remains,’ — p.  458. 


iQO  Henry  Lonoueville  Mansel:  [1858 

viz.  that  ‘ the  Unconditmied  is  hicognisahle  and  inconcewahle ; 
its  notion  being  only  negative  of  the  Conditioned,  which 
last  can  alone  be  positively  known  or  conceived.’  To 
writers  of  the  Deistical  school  the  Lecturer’s  application 
of  this  principle  to  Religion, — his  merciless  exposure  of 
Man’s  inability  to  conceive  the  Absolute  and  the  Infinite, 
— proved  exasperating  in  a high  degree.  It  was  indeed 
to  have  been  expected  that  an  argument  based  on  the 
demonstrable  impotence  of  Thought  would  arouse  the 
jealousy  of  professed  thinkers.  Some  were  heard  to 
declare  that  to  deny  to  Man  a knowledge  of  the  Infinite 
is  to  make  Revelation  itself  impossible,  and  to  leave  no 
room  for  Evidences  on  which  Reason  can  be  legitimately 
employed.  Mansel  replied, — 

‘ The  objection  would  be  pertinent,  if  I had  ever 
maintained  that  Revelation  is  or  can  be  a direct  mani- 
festation of  the  Infinite  Nature  of  God.  But  I have 
constantly  asserted  the  very  reverse.  In  Revelation,  as 
in  Natural  Religion,  God  is  represented  under  finite 
conceptions,  adapted  to  finite  minds  ; and  the  evidences 
on  which  the  authority  of  Revelation  rests  are  finite  and 
comprehensible  also.’ — [Preface^  pp.  xvi-xvii.) 

His  assertion  that  Human  Morality  cannot,  in  its 
highest  manifestation,  be  regarded  as  a complete  measure 
of  the  absolute  goodness  of  God,  was  denounced  as  ‘de- 
structive of  healthful  moral  perception.’  His  claim  that 
God,  manifesting  Himself  to  certain  nations  or  indi- 
viduals on  particular  occasions,  might  deliver  to  them 
particular  precepts,  requiring  actions  which  would  be 
immoral  and  vicious  were  it  not  for  such  precepts, — 
was  repelled  with  horror  and  indignation.  Upon  this 
principle,  (remarks  one  of  his  Critics)  ‘the  deed  which 
is  criminal  on  earth  may  be  praiseworthy  in  heaven,’ 
— which,  (as  Mansel  remarks),  ‘is  to  distort  the  whole 


1858]  The  Christian  Philosopher.  191 

doctrine,  and  to  beg  the  whole  question.’  It  was  freely 
urged  against  the  Lecturer  that  his  book  was  ‘an  attack 
on  the  Divine  Morality : ’ — but,  (as  Copleston  shrewdly 
remarked  on  a similar  occasion,)  offence  was  evidently 
taken  ^ 7tot  so  much  from  a jealousy  for  the  ho?iour  of  God,  to 
which  it  pretends,  as  from  a jealousy  for  the  ho7iour  of  Man! 
This,  in  fact,  was  the  occasion  of  all  the  outcry. 

There  is  nothing  new  or  strange  in  the  position,  that 
the  adequate  idea  of  God  is  unattainable  by  the  human 
mind  as  now  constituted.  It  is  even  one  of  the  axioms 
of  Catholic  Theology  that  God,  in  the  perfection  of  His 
essential  Nature,  is  by  Man  ^ unhiowahle!  God  is  in- 
finite: but  a finite  being  cannot  comprehend  infinity.  By 
no  finite  intelligence,  wherever  found,  can  God  be  known 
as  He  essentially  is. — ‘ Canst  thou  by  searching  find  out 
God  ? ’ . . . In  Hooker’s  words, — ‘ Our  soundest  know- 
ledge is,  to  know  that  we  know  Him  not  as  indeed  He  is, 
neither  can  know  Him!  [E.  P.  I.  ii.  2.]  We  do  but  attain  to 
an  imperfect  knowledge  of  His  Nature  through  the  analogy 
between  human  things  and  things  Divine.  In  other  words, 
‘ the  knowledge  which  Man  in  this  life  can  have  of  the 
Creator  is  not  a knowledge  of  the  Divine  Nature  as  it  is 
in  itself',  but  only  of  that  Nature  as  imperfectly  re- 
presented through  analogous  qualities  in  the  creature.’ 

To  assert,  on  the  other  hand,  that  God,  because  ‘ un- 
knowable,’ is  therefore  ‘ unrevealable  ; ’ — to  pretend  (with 
the  Agnostics)  that  by  an  eternal  necessity  in  Keason, 
as  a logical  consequence  of  the  finitude  of  human  power, 
Man’s  reason  is  incapable  of  apprehending  any  alleged 
Revelation  of  God, — natural  or  supernatural ; — is  to 
invent  an  impossibility  in  order  to  meet  the  require- 
ments of  Agnosticism.  That  God  hath  been  revealed 


1 92  Henry  Longueville  Hansel:  [1859 

to  Man  in  respect  of  those  essential  attributes  of  His 
which  make  Him  unknowable, — is  what  no  one  pre- 
tends. It  were  a contradiction  in  terms  to  say  so. 
But  that  God  is  revealable  is  certain, — for  the  sufficient 
reason  that,  in  the  Bible,  Gob  is  actually  revealed. 

‘On  the  whole,’  writes  Mansel  in  his  Preface  to  the 
4th  Edition  of  his  Lectures  [Nov.  21st,  1859], — 

‘ I have  no  reason  to  complain  of  my  Critics.  With  a 
few  exceptions,  the  tone  of  their  observations  has  been 
candid,  liberal,  and  intelligent,  and  in  some  instances 
more  favourable  than  I could  have  ventured  to  expect. 
An  argument  so  abstruse,  and  in  some  respects  so  contro- 
versial, must  almost  inevitably  call  forth  a considerable 
amount  of  opposition  ; and  such  criticism  is  at  least 
useful  in  stimulating  further  inquiry,  and  in  pointing 
out  to  an  Author  those  among  his  statements  which 
appear  most  to  require  explanation  or  defence.’ — (p.  5.) 

Although  therefore  he  altered  nothing  in  his  Lectures, 
yet  in  a valuable  and  very  interesting  Preface,  of  nearly 
40  pages,  he  explained  several  matters  to  which  excep- 
tion had  been  taken  by  one  or  other  of  his  anonymous 
Critics, — meeting  their  various  objections,  and  effectually 
disposing  of  them.  He  adds  in  a Postscript, — 

‘ It  may  perhaps  be  expected  that  I should  say  some- 
thing in  reply  to  the  long  and  elaborate  attack  upon  me 
which  has  recently  been  published  under  the  sanction  of 
the  name  and  reputation  of  the  Rev.  F.  D.  Maurice. 
My  reasons  for  declining  to  do  so  in  this  place,  will,  I 
think,  be  appreciated  by  those  who  are  acquainted  with 
Mr.  Maurice’s  book.  The  language  in  which  Mr.  Maurice’s 
remarks  are  conveyed,  and  the  temper  which  they  exhibit, 
are  such  as  to  place  his  work  in  a totally  different  class 
from  the  criticisms  with  which  I have  hitherto  been 
dealing.’ 

Mansel  refers  such  of  his  readers  as  desire  to  know 
more  on  this  subject,  to  his  own  separate  '‘'Examination  of 


i86i]  The  Christian  Philosopher. 


193 


the  Rev.  F.  R.  Maurice  s “ Strictures  on  the  Bampton  Lectures 
of  1858,”  ’ which  appeared  simultaneously  in  the  form  of 
a bulky  pamphlet.  That  he  should  have  bestowed  so 
much  labour  on  those  480  pages  of  vituperation, — which 
he  himself  characterized  as  ‘ a tissue  of  continuous  mis- 
representation, without  a parallel  in  recent  literature,’ — 
•may  reasonably  excite  surprise.  But  he  considered  it 
due  to  Ml*.  Maurice’s  respected  name  and  high  character 
that  he  should  be  replied  to,  though  he  deemed  his 
criticism  damaging  only  to  the  reputation  of  the  Critic 
himself.  It  is  not  needful  to  dwell  further  on  this  con- 
troversy. Severer  chastisement  than  that  which  Mansel 
regretfully  “ administered  to  the  Rev.  F.  D.  Maurice,  it 
would  be  hard  to  find  in  the  annals  of  literary  retri- 
bution. The  sentence  already  pronounced  upon  the  latter 
by  a competent  judge,  (the  Rev.  Janies  B.  Mozley,  D.D.) 
will  be  found  at  foot.^ 


At  the  end  of  two  years  (viz.  in  1861)  a very  dif- 
ferent antagonist  entered  the  lists  with  the  Bampton 
Lecturer.  Mr.  Goldwin  Smith,  (Regius  Professor  of 
Modern  History)  in  a Postscript^  to  his  ^Lectures  on  the 
Study  of  History'^ — (in  which  he  had  subscribed  to  the 


® See  the  Postscript, — p.  T02.  . . . 
We  know  on  unimpeachable  au- 
thority that  against  Dean  Mansel, 
Mr.  Maurice  ^‘had  a special  ani- 
mosity." See  the  Abp.  of  York’s 
Letter  in  the  ‘ Times  ’ (3  Feb.  1885), 
— reprinted  in  the  ‘ Guardian  ’ 
(4  Feb.),— p.  196. 

* “ I do  not  envy  you  your  task 
of  reviewing  Maurice  in  the 
‘ Guardian,'  yet  I have  to  do  it  in 
the  ‘ Christian  Remembrancer.'  It 
is  a pity  to  see  a man  losing  him- 
self and  becoming  a ruin,  from  a 
VOL.  II. 


radical  mistake  of  thinking  himself 
a Philosopher.  Some  of  the  cut-up 
reviews  did  much  good  in  this  way. 
They  put  down  a man  at  the  outset. 
But  Maurice  has  been  petted  and 
told  he  is  a philosopher,  till  he 
naturally  thinks  he  is  one.  And 
he  has  not  a clear  idea  in  his  head. 
It  is  a reputation  that,  the  instant 
it  is  touched,  must  go  like  a card- 
house.”  (‘  Letters  of  the  Rev.  J.  B. 
Mozley,  D.D.’ — p.  222,  Nov.  15, 
1853,  to  Dean  Church.) 

5 pp.  77-91. 


0 


194  Henry  Longueville  Hansel:  [i86i 

doctrine  of  Clarke  as  to  the  identity  of  Human  and 
Divine  Justice), — took  vehement  exception  to  Hansel’s 
conclusion  that  ‘ Human  morality,  even  in  its  highest 
elevation,  is  not  identical  with,  nor  adequate  to  measure, 
the  Absolute  Morality  of  God.’  ® Because  Hansel  ‘ had 
asserted  the  Absolute  Nature  of  God  to  be  inconceiv- 
able', the  Professor  charged  him  with  having  ‘actually 
proved  a belief  in  God  to  be  impossible.'  ‘ It  is  to  blank 
materialism  and  empiricism  that  such  reasonings  inevit- 
ably lead.  Morality,  truth,  God,  are  swept  away.’”^ 
‘If’  (he  writes)  ‘God  is  “inconceivable,”  I fail  to  appre- 
hend how  we  can  believe  in  Him.’ — Hansel  replies : — 

‘ The  only  apparent  force  in  your  reasoning  is  due  to 
a confusion  between  the  conception  of  the  relative  and  the 
belif  in  the  absolute.  I conceive  God  under  certain 
relations,  every  one  of  which  is  a “ notion  ” analogous  to 
the  notions  which  we  form  of  other  objects.  The  terms, 
“Father,”  “Kuler,”  “Judge,” — “Good,”  “Wise,”  “Just,” — 
all  represent  notions  derived  in  the  first  instance  from 
human  relations,  and  applied  to  God,  not  as  exactly 
expressing  the  perfection  of  His  absolute  nature,  but  as 
expressing  the  nearest  approach  to  it  which  we  are 
capable  of  receiving.’ — (pp.  84  and  36.) 

Hansel  had  laid  it  down,  that — ‘ the  conceptions  which 
we  are  compelled  to  adopt  as  the  guides  of  our  thoughts 
and  actions  now,  may  indeed,  in  the  light  of  a higher 
Intelligence,  be  but  partial  truth,  but  cannot  be  total  false- 
hood.’— On  which,  Goldwin  Smith  asks, — ‘ Why  not  totally 
false  as  well  as  partly  false  ? ’ ^ But,  (Hansel  replies,) — 

‘ Why  “ partly  false  ” at  all  % Does  the  assertion  that 
certain  judgments  are  but  partial  truths,  necessarily 
imply  that  they  are  partial  falsehoods  ? When  S.  Paul 
says, — “ We  know  in  part,  and  we  prophesy  in  part : but 
when  that  which  is  perfect  is  come,  then  that  which  is 

® p,  77.  p.  84.  * p.  80. 


195 


i86i]  The  Christian  Philosopher. 

in  part  shall  be  done  away,” — I cannot  understand  him 
otherwise  than  as  asserting  that  the  knowledge  which 
guides  us  in  this  life  is  but  partial  truth : and  that  it 
will  give  place  to  a more  complete  truth  hereafter.’ — 
(p-  42-) 

Mansel  concludes : — 

‘ Be  the  difference  between  us  what  it  may,  I cannot 
think  that  it  is  sufficient  to  justify  the  use  of  such  ex- 
pressions as  “ blank  materialism  and  empiricism,” — 
“ morality,  truth,  GoD,  are  swept  away,” — “ belief  in  God 
is  proved  to  be  impossible,” — “the  Mephistophelic  lan- 
guage of  the  Arch-Pantheist,” — and  the  like.  Nor  do  I 
believe  that  you  would  have  employed  such  language, 
had  not  your  judgment  been  warped  by  a foregone  con- 
clusion, indicated  in  the  body  of  your  Lectures, — a 
conclusion  which,  I venture  to  think,  is  neither  war- 
ranted by  the  records  of  History,  nor  by  the  facts  of 
Human  Nature. 

‘ You  have  adopted  a historical  theory,  which  virtually 
divides  the  thinking  part  of  the  world  into  two  classes, 
the  friends  and  the  enemies  of  Progress  ; the  one  em- 
bodying the  good,  the  other  the  evil  principle  in  the 
history  of  mankind : the  one  generouS;,  the  other  selfish : 
the  one  representing  “ the  moral  instincts  of  Man  press- 
ing onwards,  in  obedience  to  his  conscience,  towards  the 
further  knowledge  of  Keligious  Truth  ; ” the  other  “ the 
defenders  of  ecclesiastical  interests,”  endeavouring  “ to 
save  their  threatened  dominion  ” by  “ the  civil  sword,” 
or  by  “ intellectual  intrigue  and  the  power  of  sophistry.”^ 
This  is  but  a repetition  of  the  old  cry  of  Priest- 
craft,— a cry  common  among  the  demagogues  of  a former 
generation,  but  which  I hardly  expected  to  see  revived  by 
the  philosophers  of  the  present.  It  may  serve  a tempo- 
rary purpose,  in  blackening  the  character  of  an  opponent ; 
but  it  will  have  no  permanent  effects  in  furthering  the 
cause  of  Truth.’ — (pp.  46-48.) 

To  Hansel’s  ‘ Letter  to  Prof.  Goldwin  Smith  concerning  the 

® pp.  60-61. 


196  Henry  Longueville  Mansel:  [1861 


Tostscript  to  his  Lectures  on  the  study  of  History^  ^ the  Pro- 
fessor replied  first  by  a leaflet  of  4 pages  (:28th  May), 
and  in  the  ensuing  October  by  a slender  volume.^ 
Nothing  material  was  thereby  added  to  what  Mr.  Gold- 
win  Smith  had  said  already;  but  there  is  a vast  deal 
more  of  the  same  vehement  (and  as  we  think,  mistaken) 
dogmatism.  We  learn  that  the  Professor  has  very  little 
respect  for  the  authority  of  those  great  thinkers  of  a 
past  generation  [Bishops  mostly)  with  whom  Mansel  had 
been  at  the  pains  to  show  that  he  was  himself  in  accord. 
The  Professor  trusts  nevertheless  that  he  is, 

‘ not  wanting  in  respect  for  those  who,  by  their  eminent 
virtues,  the  cautious  character  of  their  theological  con- 
victions, and  the  coincidence  of  their  political  opinions 
with  those  of  the  First  Minister,  backed  in  many 
instances  by  assiduous  and  judicious  solicitation,  have 
been  raised  to  the  highest  preferment  in  the  English 
Church.’ — (p.  23.) 

But  he  considers  that  the  authority  of  Butler  ‘has 
weighed  like  an  incubus  on  the  University  of  Oxford,’ — 

‘ where,  through  the  weak  side  of  his  system,  he  has 
become  the  unhappy  parent  of  a pedagogue  philosophy 
which  is  always  rapping  people  on  the  knuckles  with 
the  ferule  of  “ analogous  difficulties,”  instead  of  trying  to 
solve  the  doubts  and  satisfying  the  moral  instincts  of 
mankind.’ — (p.  75.) 

We  knew  before  that  in  the  distinguished  Professor’s 
account,  “ Coleridge  is  the  greatest  of  English  Divines  ” ^ : — 


^ pp.  50, — published  23rd  May, 
1861. 

^ ‘ Rational  Religion,  and  the 
Rationalistic  Objections  of  the 
Bampton  Lectures  for  1858,’  — 
1861,  pp.  146. 

® ‘Study  of  Sistoryj — p.  5.  For 
the  satisfaction  of  those  persons  (if 
any  there  be)  who  cherish  the  same 


exalted  estimate  of  S.  T.  Coleridge 
[1772-1834]  as  a Divine,  a letter  of 
his  is  here  subjoined.  It  was  ad- 
dressed to  ‘ Hugh  James  Rose,  esq., 
Uckfield,’ and  is  dated  ‘Mudiford, 
Ch.  Ch., — 25th  Sept.  1816,’  — at 
which  date  the  writer  had  attained 
the  mature  age  of  44 : — 

“Should  it  please  the  Almighty 


i86i]  The  Christian  Philosopher. 


197 


a dictum^  by  the  way,  which  at  once  suggests  the  measure 
of  his  own  Orthodoxy,  and  reveals  the  extent  of  his 
acquaintance  with  the  resources  of  Anglican  Divinity. 
Let  me  be  permitted  without  olfence  to  declare  that  the 
arrogance  of  Mr.  Goldwin  Smith’s  method,  not  to  say  the 
irreverence  (I  believe  unintentional)  of  his  tone,  while  it 
contrasts  unfavourably  with  the  grave  dignity  and  pious 
earnestness  of  his  opponent,  altogether  fails  to  conciliate 
acquiescence  in  his  imperious  decrees.  In  the  discussion 
of  subjects  of  such  depth  and  difficulty  as,  The 

absolute  and  essential  nature  of  God,  and  whether  or  no 
it  may  be  adequately  conceived  by  Man : (secondly),  The 
consequences  of  the  Fall  on  the  moral  and  intellectual 
constitution  of  a being  originally  created  ‘ in  the  image 
of  God,’  ^ — and  whether  it  be  not  reasonable  to  suspect 
that  thereby  Mans  esthnate  of  the  Divine  Morality  became 
seriously  impaired: — In  the  discussion  of  subjects  pro- 
found and  solemn  as  these,  no  progress  will  be  made 


to  restore  me  to  an  adequate  state 
of  healtli,  and  prolong  my  years 
enough,  my  aspirations  are  toward 
the  concentring  my  powers  in  3 
Works.  The  First, — (for  I am  con- 
vinced that  a true  system  of  Philo- 
sophy [=the  Science  of  Life]  is 
hest  taught  in  Poetry,  as  well  as 
most  safely), — Seven  Hymns,  with 
a large  preface,  or  prose  commen- 
tary, to  each: — i,  to  the  Sun;  2, 
Moon ; 3,  Earth ; 4,  Air ; 5,  Water; 
6,  Fire ; 7,  God. 

“The  Second  Work,  5 Treatises 
on  the  Logos,  or  communicative 
and  communicable  Intellect,  in  God 
and  Man.  1,  Aoyos  TrpoTraihivriKos, 
or  Organum  vere  organum. — 2,  Ao- 
70s  apxiT€KToviKos,  or  the  principles 
of  the  Dynamic  or  Constructive 
Philosophy,  as  opposed  to  the  Me- 


chanic.— 3,  Commentary  in  detail 
on  the  Gospel  of  S.  John, — or  Aoyos 
OeavOpojnos.  — 4,  Aoyos  ayooviaTrjs. 
Biography  and  Critique  on  the  Sys- 
tems of  Jox’dano  Bruno,  Behmen, 
and  Spinoza. — 5,  Aoyos  aXoyos,  or 
the  Sources  and  Consequences  of 
Modern  Unicism,  absurdly  called 
‘ Unitarianism.’ 

“ The  Third,  an  Epic  Poem  on 
the  Destruction  of  J erusalem  under 
Titus.” 

That  part  of  the  magnum  opus 
of  ‘ the  greatest  of  English  Divines  ’ 
which  was  to  have  consisted  of  ‘ a 
Commentary  in  detail  on  the  Gospel 
of  S.  John,’ — together  with  the 
treatise  on  Bruno,  Behmen  and  Spi- 
noza,— would  have  been  a curiosity. 

^ Gen.  i.  26,  27.  Consider  the 
statements  in  Gen.  v.  i,  3. 


198  Henry  Lonqueville  Hansel:  [1861 

while  sneers,  taunts,  and  injurious  innuendos  are  freely 
thrown  out ; as  well  as  fatal  inferences  drawn  from 
premisses  which  do  not  strictly  warrant  them. 

Thus,  it  by  no  means  follows  that  Belief  in  God  is 
impossible  because  an  adequate  Conceptioyi  of  God  is  un- 
attainable. Nor  indeed  would  the  same  disastrous 
consequence  follow,  even  if  it  were  admitted  that  by 
Man’s  unassisted  reason,  no  conception  at  all  of  God  may 
be  attained. — Again.  It  would  not  follow  from  the  fact 
{first),  That  Adam’s  standard  of  morality  after  the  Fall 
was  not  strictly  identical  with  his  standard  of  morality 
before  the  Fall ; and  {secondly),  That  the  Human  standard 
of  morality  at  best  can  only  be  an  imperfect  image  of 
the  Divine ; — that  therefore  there  are  ‘ three  moralities  ’ 
(p.  49). — Least  of  all  may  it  be  pretended,  because  God 
in  the  absolute  perfection  of  His  essential  nature  is  by 
Man  inconceivable,  that  there;fore  the  Church  may  not 
warn  her  children  against  notions  concerning  the  God- 
head which  she  knows  to  be  erroneous.  The  Church 
Catholic,  (Professor  Goldwin  Smith  notwithstanding 
[p.  90-1]),  will  to  the  end  of  time  confess  before  men 
and  Angels  that  ‘we  worship  one  God  in  Trinity,  and 
Trinity  in  Unity : — Father,  Son,  and  Holy  Ghost  : — 
alike  uncreate,  incomprehensible,  and  eternal: — Al- 
mighty, God,  and  Lord: — co-eternal  and  co-equal: — 
not  three  Gods  but  one  God.’  And  yet  the  wisest  of 
her  sons  will  not  hesitate  to  proclaim  ‘ that  we  know 
Him  not  as  indeed  He  is,  neither  can  know  Him  f for 
that  ‘ His  glory  is  inexplicable.  His  greatness  above  our 
capacity  and  reach.’ ^ 

The  controversy  between  Mansel  and  his  Critics  on 
which  I have  thought  it  my  duty  to  bestow  so  many  words. 


® Hooker,  ^ Eccl.  Pol.’ — I.  ii.  2. 


199 


i86i]  The  Christian  Philosopher. 

was  (I  believe)  productive  of  good.  Mr.  Goldwin  Smith, 
a religious  man  as  well  as  a very  able  writer,  urged  his 
objections  to  Hansel’s  philosophy  with  vigour  and  clear- 
ness. He  would  himself  be  the  first  to  admit  that  the 
Bampton  Lecturer  met  those  objections  with  philosophical 
precision  and  the  calmest  lucidity  of  statement.  From 
an  attentive  perusal  of  the  entire  controversy, — (which 
was  closed  by  a Second  Letter  from  Mansel  to  the  Pro- 
fessor of  Modern  History,) — the  thoughtful  reader  will 
understand  a vast  deal  more  about  the  matter  in  dispute 
than  would  have  been  possible  from  any  amount  of  study 
of  the  ^Bampton  Lectures'  alone. — Into  Hansel’s  subse- 
quent controversy  with  John  Stuart  Mill,  I do  not  pro- 
pose to  enter.  It  would  conduct  us  into  an  altogether 
foreign  region.  The  doctrine  of  Bersonality  is  the  central 
position  of  the  Philosophy  of  the  author  of  the  Bampton 
Lectures, — as  it  is  of  that  of  Bishop  Butler.  In  the 
words  of  an  excellent  Critic, — 

“ This  is  the  sine  qua  non  of  a truly  philosophical 
system.  There  can  be  no  Christian  philosophy,  nor  any 
other  true  philosophy,  without  it.  It  is  the  crucial  test. 
This  Personality  is  part  and  parcel  of  the  Freedom  of  the 
Will,  which  is  a positive  fact  of  our  consciousness, — 
a Freedom  of  the  Will  under  the  conditions  imposed  by 
the  Divine  Being.  Just  as  this  is  the  fundamental 
position  of  Dean  Mansel,  so  the  foundation  of  Mr.  Mill, 
Mr.  Herbert  Spencer,  and  most  of  those  who  have  op- 
posed or  travestied  our  author,  is  Necessity.  One,  is  the 
watchword  of  Belief,  — the  other,  of  Scepticism  and 
Materialism  in  all  their  Protean  forms.  Indeed,  the 
logical  consequence  of  Necessity  is,  as  Sir  William 
Hamilton  has  pointed  out,  nothing  more  nor  less  than 
Atheism.  It  is  the  virtual  denial  of  the  spiritual  element 
as  existing  at  all  in  Man : the  lowering  of  him  to  the  level 
of  a brute.”  ® 

® From  an  able  article  {‘Dean  by  Professor  Burrows  in  tbe  ‘Church 
Mansel  asa  Christian  Philosopher  ’)  Qvjarterly'  [Oct.  1877, — p.  14].  See 


200  Henry  Lonoueville  Mansel:  [1858 

I cannot,  however,  pass  on  until  1 have  invited  atten- 
tion to  the  solemn  words  with  which  our  ‘ Christian 
Philosopher  ’ concludes  the  Preface  to  the  first  edition  of 
his  Bampton  Lectures ; the  words  with  which  in  fact  he 
takes  leave  of  the  entire  subject.  He  has  been  speaking 
of  Sir  William  Hamilton’s  celebrated  article  on  the 
Philosophy  of  the  Unconditioned.’^  ‘But’  (he  adds), — 

‘If  the  best  theoretical  exposition  of  the  limits  of 
human  thought  is  to  be  found  in  the  writings  of  a 
Philosopher  but  recently  removed  from  among  us ; it  is 
in  a work  of  more  than  a century  old  that  we  find  the 
best  instance  of  the  acknowledgment  of  those  limits  in 
practice.  The  Analogy  of  Heligion^  natural  and  revealed^  to 
the  constitution  and  course  of  Nature^  furnishes  an  example 
of  a profound  and  searching  philosophical  spirit,  com- 
bined with  a just  perception  of  the  bounds  within  which 
all  human  philosophy  must  be  confined,  to  which,  in 
the  whole  range  of  similar  investigations,  it  would  be 
difficult,  if  not  impossible,  to  find  a parallel.  The  Author 
of  that  work  has  been  justly  described  as  “one  to  whose 
deep  sayings  no  thoughtful  mind  was  ever  yet  intro- 
duced for  the  first  time,  without  acknowledging  the 
period  an  epoch  in  its  intellectual  history” ; ® and  it  may 
be  added  that  the  feeling  of  admiration  thus  excited  will 
only  be  increased  by  a comparison  of  his  writings  with 
the  pretentious  failures  of  more  ambitious  thinkers. 
Connected  as  the  present  Author  has  been  for  many 
years  with  the  studies  of  Oxford,  of  which  those  writings 
have  long  formed  an  important  part,  he  feels  that  he 
would  be  wanting  in  his  duty  to  the  University  to 


Hansel’s  letter  to  Lord  Carnarvon, 
below,  at  pp.  225-6. 

’ See  above,  pp.  1 89-90. — Mansel 
points  out  that  Sir  Williana’s  prac- 
tical conclusion, — (“  We  are  thus 
taught  the  salutary  lesson,  that  the 
capacity  of  Thought  is  not  to  be 
constituted  into  the  measure  of 
existence ; and  are  warned  from 


recognising  the  domain  of  our  Know- 
ledge as  necessarily  coextensive 
with  the  horizon  of  our  Faith,”) — is 
identical  with  that  which  is  con- 
stantly enforced  throughout  his 
Bampton  Lectures. 

* W.  A.  Butler,  ‘Letters  on  the 
Development  of  Christian  Doctrine, 

-P-  75. 


1858]  The  Christian  Philosopher. 


201 


which  he  owes  so  much,  were  he  to  hesitate  to  declare, 
at  this  time,  his  deep-rooted  and  increasing  conviction, 
that  sound  Religious  Rhilosopliy  will  flourish  or  fade  within 
her  walls.,  according  as  she  perseveres^  or  neglects^  to  study  the 
works  and  ndtivate  the  spirit  of  her  great  son  a7id  teacher.^ 
Bishop  Butleb.’ 

As  a matter  of  fact,  Butler’s  immortal  Work  has,  of 
late  years,  been  elbowed  out  from  the  Oxford  curriculum, — 
in  favour  of  a system  of  teaching  which  leads  directly  to 
Unbelief,  if  it  does  not  actually  profess  it.  Whatever 
plea  may  be  urged  for  this  retrograde  course,  it  may  not 
at  all  events  be  pretended  that  it  is  because  Butler’s 
philosophy  has  become  ^ obsolete  I — (whether  ‘half’  or 
wholly).^  Never  will  Butler’s  'Analogy^  become  ‘obso- 
lete’ until  objections  to  Revealed  Religion  have  become 
obsolete  also. — And  now,  to  proceed. 


It  has  been  objected  to  Mansel  that  he  fails  to  meet 
the  wants  of  those  in  this  age  who  are  trying  to  find 
some  intermediate  philosophical  position  between  the 
Gnostic  (or  Rationalistic)  and  the  Agnostic  extremes. 
It  is  only  to  be  found,  (Mansel  would  insist),  in  the 


® The  E,t.  Hon.  Joseph  Napier, 
LL.D.,  in  the  Preface  to  his  ‘Lec- 
tures on  Butler’’ s Analogy  of  Reli- 
gion to  the  Constitution  and  Course 
of  Nature : delivered  before  the 
Members  of  the  Dublin  Young 
Mens  Christian  Association  in  con- 
nection with  the  United  Church  of 
England  and  Ireland^  (Dublin, 
1864,  pp.  325), — writes  as  follows: 
— “ Since  the  last  of  these  Lectures 
was  delivered,  I have  seen  ah  in- 
structive example  of  the  way  in 
which  Butler  is  occasionally  dealt 
with.  In  a very  recent  and  in- 
genious publication  of  Professor 
Goldwin  Smith,  in  reply  to  Mr. 


Mansel  of  Oxford,  the  learned  writer 
refers  to  a passage  in  Mr.  Mansel’s 
Preface,  in  which  he  assures  Ox- 
ford,”— [and  then  follows  the  words 
of  counsel  already  quoted.]  “ Pro- 
fessor Smith,  amongst  other  com- 
ments on  this,  says, — ‘ They  coun- 
sel her  ill,  even  for  her  safety,  who 
bid  her  bind  herself  to  the  stake  of 
a philosophy  now  half  obsolete  in 
the  middle  of  a rising  tide.”  (pp. 
77,  78.)  Dr.  Napier’s  searching 
criticism  of  Professor  Smith  which 
follows  [pp.  iv-vii]  aptly  illustrates 
the  unskilful  handling  which  Butler 
is  experiencing  at  the  hands  of  the 
men  of  the  present  generation. 


202  Henry  Longueville  Hansel:  [1858 

Divinely  revealed  Religion  of  Chkist,  which  addresses 
itself  to  Man’s  Spiritual  Intelligence, — an  entirely  moral 
faculty ; involving  moral  trust,  and  claiming  moral  and 
spiritual  discernment.  The  supposed  necessity  of  sub- 
siding into  the  religious  negations  of  Materialism  and 
Agnosticism, — (merely  because  the  Infinite  is  incompre- 
hensible),— disappears.  But  our  philosopher,  presuming 
this  to  be  a thing  sufficiently  known,  spends  his  great 
strength  in  cutting  the  ground  from  under  the  Deist, 
the  Pantheist,  the  Atheist,  by  showing  that  their  systems 
are  simply  self-contradictory  and  irrational. 

In  general,  the  Christian  Apologist  is  apt  to  assume 
that  Rational  Deism  is  almost,  if  not  quite,  impregnable. 
He  fancies  that  he  can  always  fall  back  on  it  with 
perfect  safety.  Mansel,  (like  Butler,)  not  only  saw  that 
such  an  assumption  is  unfounded,  but  he  had  the 
honesty  and  boldness  to  state  the  objections  to  Deism 
in  a very  powerful  way.  This  part  of  his  Lectures  has 
been  a storehouse  from  which  Atheists  have  borrowed 
their  weapons.  (The  circumstance  is  calamitous  ; but  it 
is  as  unavoidable  as  that  poisons  should  be  obtainable 
at  an  apothecary’s  shop.)  On  the  whole,  the  Reason 
cannot  by  any  effort  establish  any  doctrine  which  will 
satisfy  the  cravings  of  mankind.  Deists  maintain  that 
they  do  succeed : but  Mansel,  (and  Butler  too),  point  out 
that  the  all-wise,  omnipotent,  and  benevolent  Being 
assumed — (not  really  proved) — by  Deists,  is  a fictitious 
being:  none  of  these  attributes  being  apparent  in  the 
World  or  in  History. 

If  Reason  fails,  as  it  clearly  does,  to  furnish  an  object  - 
which  can  be  adored  and  loved,  we  are  thrown  back  on 
the  consideration  of  the  evidences  of  existing  Religions ; 
which  evidences  are  to  be  judged  just  as  we  should 


1858]  The  Christian  Philosopher.  203 

judge  any  other  evidences  to  historic  fact.  In  Hansel’s 
judgment,  the  evidences  for  Christianity,  (and  Miracles 
are  only  one  of  them),  notwithstanding  objections  can- 
didly admitted,  prove  its  Divine  origin : prove,  that  is, 
that  it  is  an  emanation  from  the  same  person  or  thing 
(call  it  what  you  will)  that  created  and  sustains  the 
Universe.  Every  objection, — moral,  metaphysical,  or 
what  not, — that  can  be  urged  against  Christian  Theo- 
logy, can  be  urged  with  equal,  if  not  with  greater  force, 
against  any  scheme  that  men  seek  to  put  in  its  place.^ 

The  foundations  of  a Religious  Philosophy  are  to  be 
discovered  in  the  facts  of  our  spiritual  constitution. 
The  great  characteristic  of  Man  is  that  he  is  endowed  with 
Moral  a7id  Religious  feelings.  As  a matter  of  fact,  (and  it 
must  be  in  virtue  of  his  spiritual  nature,)  Man  does 
know  God.  More  than  that.  In  order  to  eternal  life, 
he  must  know  Him.  ‘ This  is  life  eternal,  to  hioto  Thee 
the  only  true  God,  and  Jesus  Cheist,  whom  Thou  hast 
sent.’  ^ But  then,  this  Scriptural  sense  of  ‘ Knowledge  ’ is 
found  to  differ  materially  from  the  philosophical  meaning 
of  the  same  word.  It  is  a popular  expression, — denoting 
something  experimental^  not  something  abstract. Thus, 
there  is  all  the  difference  in  the  world  between  the 
moral  and  spiritual  knowledge  of  God  here  spoken 
of,  — (which  Mansel  not  only  recognizes  but  insists 
upon,) — and  that  intellectual  ability  to  grasp  the  iJivme 
Infinity^  which  he  as  strenuously  denies.  God  is  not 
07ily  an  uncreated,  eternal,  and  infinite  or  incompre- 
hensible Being.  If  He  were  this  and  nothing  more, 
perforce  we  could  never  ^ hiow'  God.  But,  as  a matter 

^ This  and  the  preceding  para-  Moral  and  Metaphysical  Philosophy, 
graph  are  derived  from  correspond-  ^ S.  John  xvii.  3. 

ence  with  Mansel’s  friend, — Henry  ^ Consider  Exod.  vi.  3,  7 : vii.  5, 

W.  Chandler,  Fellow  of  Pembroke  17:  viii.  22;  ix.  29:  x.  2 : xxix. 
College  and  Waynflete  Professor  of  46,  &c.  &c. 


204  Henry  Longueville  Hansel:  [1858 

of  fact,  it  is  not  as  such  that  God  hath  revealed  Himself 
to  Man.  When  Moses,  the  ‘man  of  God,’  made  petition  to 
the  Almighty  that  He  would  show  him  His  ‘ Glory,' — 
for  all  reply,  he  was  told, — ‘ I will  make  all  My  Goodness 
pass  before  thee.’  ^ And  accordingly,  on  the  morrow,  ‘ The 
Lokd  descended . . . and  stood  with  him  there,  and  pro- 
claimed the  Name  of  the  Lord  . . . The  Lord,  the  Lord 
God,  merciful  and  gracious,  long-suffering,  and  abundant 
in  goodness  and  truth : keeping  mercy  for  thousands, 
forgiving  iniquity  and  transgression  and  sin,’  and  so 
forth.  ^ In  other  words.  Almighty  God  revealed  to 
Moses  certain  of  His  moral  attributes.  The  same  pecu- 
liarity of  the  Divine  method  is  equally  apparent  in  the 
Gospel.  One  of  the  Disciples  having  requested  that 
He  would  show  them  the  Father,  our  Saviour 
made  answer, — ‘Have  I been  so  long  time  with  you, 
and  yet  hast  thou  not  known  Me,  Philip  % He  that  hath 
seen  Me,  hath  seen  the  Father.’^  These  words  must 
needs  be  true,  because  it  is  our  Lord  who  spoke  them : 
yet  is  it  evident  that  they  may  not  be  literally  under- 
stood. How  then  shall  we  explain  them  ? They  must 
clearly  be  taken  to  imply,  that  to  Man,  as  a moral  being, 
God  reveals  Himself  chiefly  in  respect  of  His  moral 
perfections. 

Then  further,  though  it  be  true  that  it  is  our  spiri- 
tual intelligence,  in  and  through  which  we  have  a 
practical  knowledge  of  God  in  His  relation  to  ourselves, 
— (which  it  is  evident  is  the  only  relation  in  which  we 
can  either  require  or  expect  to  know  Him), — yet  is  it  to 
be  remembered  that  this  is  strictly  a moral  faculty. 
Hence  that  famous  saying  of  our  Lord, — ‘If  any  one 

* Exod.  xxxiii.  i8,  19.  ® Exod.  xxxiv.  5,  6,  7. 

® S.  John  xiv.  8,  9. 


1858]  The  Christian  Philosopher.  205 

desire  [idv  tls  OeX-p']  to  do  His  will,  he  shall  know  of  the 
doctrine,  whether  it  be  of  God.’ 

No  doubt,  there  is  a school  in  these  days  which  is 
prepared  to  deny  the  existence  of  such  things  as 
‘Spirit,’  ‘Duty,’  ‘Moral  Government,’  ‘ Keligion.’  Re- 
solute observers  of  external  Nature  announce  themselves 
incapable  of  supposing  any  spiritual  reality, — whatever 
in  short  cannot  be  seen  and  touched, — verified  by  the 
five  senses.  These  are  the  ‘Agnostics.’  We  are  sin- 
cerely sorry  for  them.  But  then,  these  persons  may  not 
claim  Mansel  for  their  own, — seeing  that  he,  more  em- 
phatically than  any,  has  disclaimed  and  discredited  them. 

In  conclusion,  the  Reader  cannot  be  too  plainly  re- 
minded that  while  the  Author  of  the  Bampton  Lectures 
denies  Man’s  ability  by  his  own  unassisted  reason  to 
find  out  God,  he  insists  that,/r^?m  Goi>^  Revelation  of  Him- 
self in  the  Scriptures^  Man  has  been  favoured  with  a vast 
amount  of  direct  information  concerning  the  great 
Ckeator,  which  he  is  fully  competent,  if  he  he  willing^  to 
embrace  with  both  the  arms  of  his  heart : and  which, 
having  himself  embraced,  he  is  bound  to  communicate  to 
others.  Mansel  does  not  dwell  on  this.  His  one  object  is 
to  convince  as  many  as  it  may  concern,  that  the  Philo- 
sophy of  Rationalism,  traced  upwards  to  its  highest 
principles,  finds  no  legitimate  resting-place  from  which 
to  commence  its  deduction  of  religious  consequences. 
This  was  the  only  thing  he  had  to  prove,  and  he  has 
satisfactorily  proved  it. 

It  belongs  to  a separate  enquiry  to  vindicate  the 
appeal  to  Scripture ; — and  to  ascertain  the  nature  and 
office  of  Faith ; — and  to  insist  that  it  is  the  province  of 

S.  John  vii.  17. — Note,  that  OiKoj  = ^ velim,’  not  ‘ volol 


2o6  Henry  Longueville  Hansel:  [1858 

Tradition  (rightly  understood)  to  formulate  Doctrine ; — 
and  to  explain  that  the  Creeds  of  the  Church  (which,  as 
all  men  know,  are  not  derived  from  Scripture)  are  em- 
phatically the  voice  of  Tradition,  proclaiming  the  neces- 
sary outlines  of  Divine  Truth.  It  was  clearly  no  part 
of  the  Lecturer’s  business  to  enlarge  on  such  subjects. 
Had  he  proceeded  to  point  out  that  it  is  the  office  of  the 
Church,  by  virtue  of  her  inherent  prerogative,  to  guide 
her  children, — (as  it  was  promised  her  that  she  should  be 
herself  guided,) — ‘ into  all  the  Truth  ^ (meaning  by  ‘ Truth,’ 
the  highest  Truth  of  all, — the  knowledge  of  Him  ‘ whom 
to  know,  is  life:’ — the  knowledge  of  God  and  of  His 
attributes, — of  His  mind  and  will :) — had  Mansel  done 
tlds^  who  sees  not  that  the  Philosopher  and  Metaphysi- 
cian would  have  forsaken  his  own  proper  province  for 
that  of  the  Theologian  and  Divine  ? To  state  the  case 
in  other  words,  and  to  put  this  entire  matter  more 
briefly  : — The  Bampton  Lectures  are  destructive,  not 
constructive,  in  their  character  and  intention.  They 
niay  be  thought  to  require  a supplement : and  it  is  not 
unlikely  that  their  Author,  had  he  lived,  would  have 
furnished  it,  by  insisting  (in  some  separate  Lectures) 
that  Belief  in  a Revelation,  and  Faith  in  a personal 
God, — besides  the  freedom  of  the  Human  Will  to  em- 
brace the  flrst  and  to  exercise  the  second, — are  demon- 
strably essential  parts  of  one  and  the  same  Divine 
scheme  ; are  one  and  all  undeniable  facts.  But  it  may 
not  be  objected  against  the  Bampton  Lectures  that  they 
fail  to  achieve  that  which  never  formed  part  of  their  law- 
ful scope  and  intended  purpose.  ...  In  the  meantime, 
evidence  is  not  wanting  that  those  powerful  discourses 
have  been  the  means,  in  many  instances,  of  settling 
the  faith  of  the  wavering ; and  leading  back  the  minds 

* els  irdaav  t^v  d\r)6eiav.  S.  John  xvi.  13. 


207 


i86i]  The  Christian  Philosopher. 

of  not  a few  who  had  wandered  from  the  safe  paths,  into 
the  miserable  labyrinth  of  doubt  and  misbelief. — And 
now, — (asking  pardon  for  what  may  be  regarded  by 
some  as  a digression,) — I will  hasten  forward. 

Besides  his  laborious  controversial  Replies  to  Critics 
already  enumerated,  Mansel,  on  being  appointed  ‘ Select 
Preacher,’  viz.  from  October  i860  till  June  1862,^^ 
availed  himself  of  the  opportunity  to  give  breadth  and 
symmetry  to  his  philosophical  system  by  enlarging  on 
certain  departments  of  his  great  subject  which  he  had 
before  but  slightly  treated.  His  Sermons  at  this  time 
bear  the  following  titles  : — PaitJi  and  Sig/it,’ — ‘ Fait/i  and 
Reason,^ — ‘ Moral  Sense  in  Theology^ — and  ‘ MaF s Relation 
to  God.’  It  is  thought  that  the  publication  of  certain 
of  these  at  the  present  time,  might  be  serviceable  to  the 
cause  of  Truth ; and  usefully  supplement  the  teaching 
of  his  ‘ Bampton  Lectures.’ 

Various  other  literary  efforts  occupied  his  time  at  this 
busy  period  of  his  life.  In  1859,  conjointly  with  Pro- 
fessor John  Veitch,  he  edited  Sir  William  Hamilton’s 
‘ Lectures  on  Metaphysics  and  Logic’  in  4 volumes.  He 
further  published  (in  Bentley’s  ‘ Quarterly  Review  ’)  a 
paper  on  ^Modern  German  Philosophy M In  1861  appeared 
his  masterly  article  ‘ on  Miracles  as  Lvideyices  of  Christianity’ 
in  the  volume  of  Theological  Essays  entitled  Mids  to 
Faith’ — put  forth  as  a counterpoise  to  the  shock  which 
the  public  conscience  had  sustained  by  the  recent  publi- 
cation of  ‘ Essays  and  Reviews.’ 

In  1863,  he  preached  at  S.  Mary’s,  Oxford,  the  second  of 

® He  was  again  appointed  ‘ Select  ^ This  has  been  reprinted  in 
Preacher’  from  October  1869  till  ^Letters,  Lectures,  and  Reviews ^ 
June  1871.  p.  189. 


2o8  Henry  Longueville  Mansel:  [1863 

a course  of  Lenten  Sermons,  afterwards  published.  ^ 
Founding  his  discourse  on  Genesis  i.  2,  he  argued  that 
THE  Spirit  is  a Divine  Person,  to  be  worshipped  and 
glorified.  Those  Lenten  Sermons  were  an  experiment, 
originally  set  on  foot  by  Bp.  Wilberforce  in  1857, — and 
attended  with  such  marked  success — (the  Preachers 
were  in  fact  the  most  eminent  Divines  of  the  day) — 
that  the  practice  was  imitated  in  every  direction,  and 
has  since  come  to  be  regarded  as  an  institution.^  In  the 
same  year  (1863)  Mansel  contributed  a Critical  Disser- 
tation to  a publication  of  the  Bt.  Hon.  Joseph  Napier, 
LL.D.,  on  Miracles.^  The  same  prolific  pen  is  found 
writing  a delightful  article  on  ‘ Sensation  Novels  ’ for  the 
April  number  of  the  ‘ Quarterly  Keview;’  and  in  the 
ensuing  July  number,  another  essay,  on  "Modern  Spiritual- 
ism.' It  was  also  in  1863  that  he  yielded  to  the  urgent 
appeal  made  to  him  that  he  should  take  part  in  the 
"Speaker's  Commentary  I In  July  1864,  he  contributed  to 
the  ‘ Quarterly  Keview  ’ an  article  on  ‘ Free  thinking.^ — its 
History  and  Te^idencies So  continuous  a strain  on  his 
powers  was  attended  by  its  inevitable  result.  It  was 
plain  that  he  must  take  rest.  All  saw  it : his  friends 
anxiously  urged  it : the  physicians  pronounced  it  abso- 
lutely necessary. 


^ In  1865,  his  Lenten  sermon  at 
S,  Mary’s  was  on  ‘ The  Conflict 
with  Sin  in  a money-getting  age  ’ ; 
in  1866,  he  preached  (from  i S.  John 
iii.  8)  on  ‘ The  Conflict  and  Defeat 
in  Eden': — in  1868,  his  subject 
was  ‘ The  personal  Responsibility 
of  Man,  as  individually  dealt  with 
by  God.’ 

^ See  above,  pp.  21-2. 

* ‘ The  Miracles.  Butler's  argu- 
ment on  Miracles,  explained  and 
defended;  with  observations  on 


Ilume,  Baden  Powell,  and  J.  S. 
Mill.  To  which  is  added  a Critical 
Dissertation,  by  the  Rev.  H.  L. 
Mansel,'  &c.  — Dublin,  — Hansel’s 
contribution  to  this  work  (‘  Critical 
Explanation  of  the  Argument  of 
Butler’)  re-appeared  in  1864,  in 
Napier’s  ‘ Lectures  on  Butler's 
Analogy,' — (Dublin,  pp.  326,)  as  an 
‘Appendix  to  Lecture  IV,' — pp. 
229  to  235.  See  above,  p.  201, 
note  (9). 


1865]  The  Christian  Philosopher. 


209 


He  left  Oxford  with  Mrs.  Mansel  for  the  Continent 
just  before  the  Easter  of  1865,  and  travelled  in  Italy  for 
nearly  three  months.  Their  visit  to  Kome  was  a special 
gratification  to  him.  His  way  was,  at  first,  for  several 
mornings  to  rise  early,  and  wander  forth  quite  alone, — 
living  over  the  Past  among  the  ancient  ruins  of  the  city. 
After  a time,  he  seemed  to  have  taken  his  fill  and  to  be 
satisfied;  “whereupon”  (says  his  wife)  “we  visited  the 
sights  together.  But  we  were  not  long  in  Rome.”  He 
returned  in  the  middle  of  June,  refreshed ; but  was  in- 
formed of  a work  by  Mr.  John  Stuart  Mill,  which  he 
was  requested  to  notice.  He  replied  in  the  ‘ Contem- 
porary p — republishing  his  Articles  in  1866  in  a separate 
volume,  entitled  ‘ The  Philosophy  of  the  Conditioned^  com- 
prising some  ‘ Remarks  on  Sir  W . Hamilton  s Philosophy., 
and  071  J.  S.  Mill's  examination  of  that  Philosophy ! The 
benefit  of  his  foreign  travel  was  in  great  measure  un- 
done by  his  thus  descending  at  once  into  the  arena  of 
intellectual  strife.  His  whole  life  was  one  of  conflict. 


Only  incidentally  hitherto,  has  anything  been  said 
concerning  Mansel’s  kVit.  So  remarkable  a feature  may 
not  be  passed  by  with  a passing  allusion  only.  He 
stood  alone  among  the  men  of  his  time  for  the  brilliancy 
of  his  epigrams, — repartees, — puns, — witty  sayings.  Wit 
in  him  was  something  all  distinct  from  humour^ — delight- 
ful, (suppose,)  as  Sydney  Smith’s.  Further  yet  was  it 
removed  from  that  irresistible  drollery  which  depends 


® Jan.  1866,  p.  31-59,  and  Feb. 
p.  185-219. — In  the  May  number 
of  the  ‘ Contempo7'ary  Review  ’ (p. 
I -1 8)  appeared  an  article  by  him 
entitled  ‘ Philosophy  and  Theo- 
logy':— and  in  the  September  num- 
ber of  1867  (p.  18-31)  ^Supple- 
mentary Remarks  on  Mr.  Mill's 
VOL.  II. 


Criticism  of  Sir  William  Hamil- 
ton : in  a Letter  to  the  Editor  of 
the  C.  R.'  (See  ‘ Letters,  Lectures, 
and  Reviews,'  p.  339-60). — His 
Lecture  ‘ on  Utility  as  a ground  of 
Moral  ohligatio7i'  was  delivered  in 
Magdalen  College,  May  2nd,  1866. 
{Ibid.,  p.  363-78-) 


P 


210  Henry  Longueville  Mansel:  [1865 

for  its  success  on  exuberant  animal  spirits, — laughs  im- 
moderately at  its  own  jokes, — and  at  last  sends  you  to 
bed  with  aching  sides  and  eyes  blinded  with  pleasant 
tears.  Neither  again  was  it  as  a raconteur  that  Mansel 
was  famous : meaning  thereby  that  delightful  conver- 
sational faculty, — (it  must  have  been  pre-eminently  con- 
spicuous in  Sir  Walter  Scott), — which  is  ever  illustrating 
the  matter  in  hand  by  first-rate  anecdotes,  or  by  repro- 
ducing the  brilliant  sayings  of  famous  men.  Least  of 
all  was  there  in  Mansel  any  of  that  sarcastic  bitterness 
which  makes  certain  utterers  of  hon-mots  as  much  the 
terror  as  the  admiration  of  society.  He  was  never 
known  to  say  a cruel  thing  of  anybody.  Sarcasm 
was  not  one  of  his  weapons.  He  was  always  good- 
natured,  always  good-tempered.  His  wit  was  purely 
intellectual ; and  its  principal  charm  was  that  it  was  so 
spontaneous, — so  keen, — so  uncommon, — above  all,  so 
unpremeditated. 

It  is  related  of  the  poet  Cowper, — (the  circumstance 
was  told  me  by  one  of  the  poet’s  friends,) — that  those 
who  used  to  watch  him  with  affectionate  interest,  kneiv 
that  he  was  about  to  be  unusually  entertaining,  several 
moments  before  he  opened  his  lips  to  speak.  The  same 
thing  (as  many  have  remarked)  was  in  a high  degree 
true  of  Mansel.  The  severe  cast  of  his  habitual  cogi- 
tations had  resulted  in  imparting  to  his  features  an 
expression  of  profound  thoughtfulness.  But  this  would 
relax  in  a moment, — vanish  like  a wreath  of  mist  before 
the  sun.  Painfully  alive  to  the  ridiculous,  it  was  natural 
to  him  to  introduce  into  a grave  discussion  some  apt 
quotation  or  remark  which  would  provoke  a burst  of 
general  merriment ; the  sure  prelude  to  which,  was  an 
expression  of  face  which  betrayed  the  approach  of 


1865]  The  Christian  Philosopher.  211 

the  coming  surprise.  His  features, — his  whole  manner, 
showed  that  he  was  ready  to  say  something  su- 
premely droll.  One  of  his  schoolfellows  remarks, — 

‘ His  humour  was  irrepressible,  and  the  coming  joke 
was  to  be  seen  spreading  gradually  over  his  face.’  The 
quick  eye  of  Samuel  Wilberforce,  Bp.  of  Winchester,  was 
not  slow  to  recognize  this  peculiarity  in  Hansel.  ‘ It  is 
coming,’ — he  once  exclaimed,  when  the  other’s  conversa- 
tion suddenly  came  to  a pause.  ‘ I always  know  that 
look ! If  you  will  wait  a minute,  you  will  be  rewarded 
with  something  delicious.’ — It  should  be  added  that  he 
was  also  the  most  appreciative  companion  one  ever  met 
with.  One  has  seen  him  so  convulsed  by  some  droll 
story  told  in  his  hearing  as  to  suggest  the  apprehension 
that  he  was  going  to  have  a fit. 

Difficult  it  is  to  know  how  to  begin,  when  one  tries  to 
recall  specimen  sayings  which  shall  adequately  illustrate 
what  goes  before.  The  reason  is,  because  no  attempt 
was  ever  made  to  collect  the  scintillations  of  his  genius 
and  to  commit  them  to  writing.  They  were  in  fact  too 
many  to  write  down.  ‘ He  was  always  saying  good 
things,’ — as  his  friend  Chandler  remarks.  At  the  end  of 
little  more  than  a decade  of  years,  when  his  friends  are 
called  upon  to  render  help,  they  are  always  observed  in 
effect  to  make  the  same  reply : — 

‘ Living  for  so  many  years  in  the  midst  of  those  witty 
sayings,  I am  sorry  to  tell  you  that  I took  no  note  of 
them  at  the  time;  and  now,  scarcely  one  of  them  can 
I remember.’ 

It  is  but  fair  to  add  that,  by  dint  of  pressure, — 
especially  when  two  or  three  of  Hansel’s  intimates  are 
brought  together, — you  are  pretty  sure  to  elicit  something 
worth  hearing.  The  matter  of  regret  is  that  the  sum  of 


212  Henry  Longueville  Man  see:  [1865 

what  can  be  now  recovered  is  so  slight.  What  need  to 
add  that  every  several  gem,  divested  of  its  setting^  no 
longer  sparkles  as  at  the  first  ? It  was  not  only  the 
suddenness  of  the  saying, — but  its  aptness  to  what  had 
just  gone  before, — which  delighted.  Divorced  from  its 
context  it  loses  more  than  half  its  charm.  Perforce  also 
what  is  written  down,  and  has  to  be  read  out  of  a 
printed  book,  is  so  utterly  unlike  what  was  brilliantly 
and  effectively  spoken : came  all  alive,  so  to  speak,  from 
the  brain  which  gave  it  birth,  and  was  attended  by  the 
joyous  laughter  of  appreciative  friends  whom  it  always 
took  by  surprise. 

For,  as  already  hinted,  his  wit  was  without  pre- 
meditation. Take  at  random  a few  samples.  Mansel 
was  dining  with  T.  F.  Dallin.  There  was  written  on  the 
biU-of-fare,  ‘ Cutlets  a la  Refonnel  ‘ Oh,  Mansel,’  (said 
some  one),  ^ you  cannot  eat  Keform  cutlets.’  Dallin  (by 
way  of  apology)  pointed  out  that  this  was  ‘differently 
spelt.  It  has  an  e at  the  end.’  ‘Aye,’  exclaimed  Mansel: 
‘ but  Reform  often  ends  in  emeute^ — (which  he  took  care 
to  mispronounce  ‘ e mute  ’). — A suggestion  having  been 
hazarded  that  Robert  Lowe  had  lately  been  writing  in 
the  ‘ Times'^  his  eye  began  to  twinkle.  ‘ To  be  sure  ’ 
(he  said)  ‘the  paper  of  late  has  been  more  loio  than 
dacent! — He  was  dining  in  vacation  with  the  present 
writer  in  Oriel  Common  Room,  when  a joint  of  lamb 
was  being  hacked  at  by  the  College  ‘ Dean,’  who  to  his 
other  accomplishments  did  not  add  that  of  adroit  carving. 
A pool  of  brown  gravy  as  large  as  a saucer  speedily 
adorned  the  table-cloth,  which  provoked  the  ejaculation, 
— ‘ Filthy  mess  ! ’ ‘Not  exactly,’  (rejoined  the  wit),  ‘but 
it  is  lamb-on-tahle  certainly.’ 

It  was  noticeable  on  such  occasions  that  he  did  not 


1865]  The  Christian  Philosopher. 


213 


talk  for  effect.  He  was  evidently  satisfied  with  the 
entertainment  he  was  affording  to  his  neighbour.  Of 
course,  the  joke  was  generally  inquired  after,  and  re- 
produced for  the  benefit  of  the  rest : but  Mansel  was  not 
the  one  to  repeat  it.  His  wit  cost  him  no  effort.  He 
could  not  help  being  witty, — and  was  as  brilliant  before 
two  as  before  tweyity.  Thus,  his  friend  Professor  Chandler 
relates  that,  on  their  way  through  ‘the  Schools,’  one 
afternoon,  ‘just  as  we  came  in  sight  of  the  Clarendon 
building,  I observed — “ Somebody  told  me  the  other  day 
that  the  statue  there  ” (pointing  to  the  figure  in  the 
niche)  “ has  no  back  to  it ; is  in  fact  a mere  shell ; 
a front  and  nothing  more.”  “You  mean”  (rejoined 
Mansel)  “ that  it  is  the  Hyde  without  the  Clarendon^  ’ — 
The  same  friend  was  once  out  driving  with  Mansel  and 
other  people, — including  a little  girl ; who  suddenly 
exclaimed  {a  propos  of  a donkey  by  the  roadside), — ‘ Look 
at  that  donkey ! he  has  got  his  head  into  a barrel  and 
can’t  get  it  out.’  Mansel  was  heard  to  murmur  softly  to 
himself, — ‘Then  it  will  be  a case  of  asphyxia  I — One 
whom  he  was  showing  round  S.  Paul’s,  complained  of 
the  heathenish  character  of  the  monuments.  ‘Just  look 
at  that  now/ — (pointing  to  a huge  figure  of  Neptune). 
‘ What  has  that  got  to  do  with  Christianity  ? ’ ‘ Tri- 

dentme  Christianity  perhaps,’  suggested  Mansel. 

Not  unfrequently  his  wit  was  of  a higher  order:  was 
distinctly  wit.  Thus,  walking  round  ‘ the  Parks  ’ with 
Hr.  Evans  (now  Master  of  Pembroke)  when  Gladstone’s 
Bill  for  disendowing  the  Irish  Church  was  in  progress, — 
‘ I cannot  understand  ’ (Mansel  broke  out)  ‘ how  he  can 
possibly  reconcile  his  conscience  to  such  wholesale 
robbery.’ — ‘ He  pleads/  was  the  reply,  ‘ that  he  is  acting 
on  conviction.’ — ‘ 0,  then  I see  how  it  is/  instantly 


214  Henry  Longueville  Hansel:  [1865 

rejoined  Mansel,  raising  his  forefinger  as  if  in  order  to 
add  point  to  the  antithesis.  ‘ The  ordinary  process  has 
been  reversed.  Commonly,  you  know,  conviction  follows 
robbery.  In  this  case,  it  seems  that  Robbery  follows  Con- 
viction! — His  sister  relates  that  one  Sunday  evening. 
Chandler  having  touched  the  piano,  was  requested  to 
sing, — which  he  declined  to  do.  Another  person  urged 
him, — ‘ If  you  can  think  of  nothing  else,  sing  us  “the  old 
hundredth.”  ’ ‘ No,  no : I should  only  murder  it.’  This 

produced  a third  entreaty  and  a more  resolute  refusal ; 
whereupon  Mansel  came  to  his  friend’s  rescue ; remarking 
that, — ‘ Chandler  naturally  hesitates  about  murdering  all 
j)eojole  that  on  earth  do  dwell! 

Only  once  more.  It  was  a severe  day  at  the  end 
of  March,  and  some  one  inopportunely  reminded  the 
company  of  the  saying  that  ‘ March  comes  in  like  a 
lion  and  goes  out  like  a lamb.’  ‘Umph,’  (ejaculated  the 
wit,) — ‘ It’s  cold  lamb,  though  ! ’ 

Inasmuch  as  his  sayings  were  habitually  addressed  to 
Academic  hearers,  certain  of  them  may  be  thought  to 
require  a word  of  explanation  when  submitted  to  the 
general  public.  It  is  presumed  however  that  the  few 
which  follow  will  readily  find  an  interpreter,  if  needed. 
Dr.  Moore,  Principal  of  S.  Edmund  Hall,  writes, — 

‘ The  last  time  I dined  with  him,  some  one  at  table 
was  describing  a peculiar  habit  attributed  to  a certain 
famous  African  traveller ; viz.  that  if  he  ever  did  put  on 
a clean  shirt,  he  put  it  on  over  the  old  one ; so  that,  by 
the  end  of  a visit,  he  had  on  three  or  four,  one  over  the 
other.  “ In  fact,”  (remarked  Mansel),  “ it  was  a kind  of 
Sorites  of  shirts,  though  it  could  not  be  described  as  a 
Goclenian  Sorites.”  ’ 

The  conditions  of  bestowing  the  degree  of  Doctor  in 
Divinity  had  degenerated  into  a senseless  form, — which 


215 


1865]  The  Christian  Philosopher. 

was  felt  to  be  discreditable  to  the  University.  (The 
Candidate  had  to  read  aloud  a few  lines  of  Greek : and 
report  tells  strange  stories  as  to  how  the  lack  of  the 
necessary  lore,  even  for  that,  was  sometimes  remedied.) 
A proposal  was  at  last  introduced  in  Council  to  sub- 
stitute two  Theological  Dissertations,  as  the  preliminary 
requirement.  While  the  discussion  was  proceeding, 
Mansel  wrote  and  passed  to  his  neighbour, — 

‘ The  degree  of  “ D.D.” 

’Tis  proposed  to  convey 
To  an  “A  double  S” 

By  a double  Tss-ay^ 

Scarcely  less  neat,  though  slightly  inferior^  is  the  same 
epigram  as  it  is  believed  to  have  at  first  fallen  from 
his  pen; 

‘ The  title  “ D.D.  ” ’tis  proposed  to  convey : 

Its  value  we  leave  you  to  guess. 

The  work  to  be  done  is, — a double  S.  A.  ; 

Its  author, — an  “ A double  S.”  ’ 

Great  offence  was  occasioned  by  certain  graduates  of 
the  University  of  Dublin,  who  on  obtaining  the  ‘ad 
eundem Oxford  degree,  proceeded  at  once  to  flaunt 
in  public  their  Oxford  hoods  as  if  they  had  been 
veritable  graduates  of  Oxford  University.  This  led, 
eventually,  to  the  abolition  of  ‘ ad  eundem  ’ Degrees : 
but  at  first,  the  fees  were  revised, — which  occasioned  the 
following : — 

‘ When  Alma  Mater  her  kind  heart  enlarges, 

Charges  her  graduates, — graduates  her  charges, — 
What  safer  rule  can  guide  th’  accountant’s  pen 
Than  that  of  doublin’  fees  for  Dublin  men '?  ’ 

On  another  occasion,  it  was  proposed  by  the  Council  to 
lower  the  fees  upon  degrees  conferred  by  ‘ accumulation.’ 
Mansel  wrote, — 


21 6 Henry  Lonoueville  Hansel  : [1865 

‘ Oxford,  beware  of  over-cheap  degrees, 

Nor  too  much  lower  “Accumulation”  fees: 

Lest — unlike  Goldsmith’s  “land  to  ills  a prey,” — 
Men  should  “accumulate,”  and  Wealth  “decay.”’ 

The  undergraduates  having  complained  (not  without 
reason)  of  the  ugliness  of  their  ‘ gown,’  the  authorities, — 
hoping  that  if  the  men’s  costume  were  made  less  un- 
becoming, they  would  manifest  less  disinclination  to 
wear  it, — entertained  the  proposal  for  a change.  Mansel 
was  ready  with  an  epigram : — 

‘ Our  gownsmen  complain  ugly  garments  oppress  them. 

We  feel  for  their  wrongs,  and  propose  to  re-dress  them.’ 

He  was  riding  with  Professor  Wall  over  ‘Port-meadow.’ 

‘ I observe  ’ said  the  other,  (pointing  to  a flock  of  geese 
on  the  wing  and  screaming,)  ‘ those  geese  always  rise  in 
that  way  as  soon  as  we  come  in  sight.’  ‘Naturally’ 
(rejoined  Mansel).  ‘They  have  a keen  vision.’®  — A 
philosophical  friend,  during  a constitutional  in  Magdalen 
Walks,  remarked  on  the  extraordinary  clamour  of  the 
jack-daws,  in  the  Grove  : adding, — ‘ I wonder  what  they 
are  talking  about?’  'Caws  I suppose,’ — replied  Mansel. 
— Only  one  more  Academical  hon-mot.  While  Mr.  Gathorne 
Hardy’s  Election  Committee  were  examining  the  list  of 
V oters,  they  came  across  the  name  of  ‘ Field-Flowers! 

‘ That  man  ’ (exclaimed  Mansel)  ‘ was  born  to  be  either 
jdougJied  or  jplucked! 

A large  proportion  of  his  remembered  epigrams  were 
elicited  by  the  political  events  of  the  day.  And  this 
may  be  a fit  opportunity  for  adverting  to  the  strength 
of  his  political  opinions.  He  was  to  the  backbone  a 
Conservative, — a Conservative  of  the  best  type : had 
been  so  from  the  beginning, — remained  so,  unchanged  to 

® X^v  (pronounced  keen)  is  the  Greek  for  ‘ goose.’ 


1865]  The  Christian  Philosopher. 


2 1 7 

the  end.  You  were  alwaj^s  sure  of  Mansel.  Nothing 
knew  he  of  half-heartedness,  or  of  a disposition  to  trim 
with  the  times.  He  was  thorough.  His  politics  were  a 
part  of  his  Religion.  At  the  Election  of  1865,  when 
Mr.  Gathorne  Hardy  was  elected  to  represent  Oxford 
University  in  the  place  of  Mr.  Gladstone,  Mansel  was 
the  most  conspicuous  member  of  his  Committee.  It 
was  not  to  be  expected  that  one  with  such  facility  for 
epigram  would  let  that  season  of  political  excitement 
(and  the  many  which  followed)  pass,  without  directing 
at  something  or  somebody,  as  occasion  served,  the  shafts 
of  his  ever-ready  wit.  The  following  rhymes  are  re- 
membered out  of  scores  which  have  perished.  The  first 
speaks  for  itself : — 

‘ When  the  versatile  Prelate  of  Oxford’s  famed  city 
Spied  the  name  of  the  chairman  of  Hardy’s  Com- 
mittee, 

Said  Samuel  (from  Samson  his  metaphor  takin’), — 

“ You  have  plough’d  with  my  heifer, — that  is  my 
Archdeacon.”^ 

‘ But  when  Samuel  himself  leaves  his  friends  in  the 
lurch 

To  vote  with  the  foes  of  the  State  and  the  Church, 

We  see  with  regret,  (for  the  spectacle  shocks  one,) 
That  Dissenters  can  plough  with  Episcopal  “ Oxon!'  ’ 

On  the  introduction  of  the  Liberal  Reform  Bill,  Mr. 
Gladstone  repeatedly  declared  that  the  Government 
would  stand  or  fall  by  the  fate  of  that  measure.  When 
carried  at  the  second  reading  by  a majority  of  only  five 
in  a very  large  House,  it  was  evident  that  the  Bill 
though  actually  carried  was  virtually  lost.  Pressed  on 
this  point,  the  Minister  repeated  his  former  language 
about  ‘ standing  or  falling  with  the  Bill’ ; and  added, — 

’ The  Ven,  Archdeacon  Clerke  of  Ch.  Ch. 


2i8  Henry  Longueville  Man 8EL : [1865 

‘ But,  sir,  we  are  of  opinion  that  the  Bill  still  stands.’ 
Mansel  immediately  wrote  : — 

‘ Upon  the  Bill  we  staked  our  all : 

With  it  to  stand,  with  it  to  fall. 

But  now  a different  course  we  see : 

The  Bill  may  lie, — and  so  may  we.’ 

About  the  same  time  Ministers,  though  they  suffered 
repeated  defeats,  pertinaciously  stuck  to  office.  Mansel 
was  heard  to  remark  that — ‘Although  the  Ministry  evi- 
dently possessed  in  an  eminent  degree  the  Christian 
virtue  of  Patience,  they  had  yet  to  learn  the  grace  of 
Pesignatio7i.' 

It  will  readily  be  understood  that  wit  so  versatile, 
prolific,  and  ready,  did  not  by  any  means  stand  on 
ceremony,  or  confine  itself  to  set  occasions.  In  public 
and  when  on  his  mettle,  Mansel  was  truly  brilliant.  At 
a dinner-table  no  man  could  be  more  entertaining.  His 
witty  sayings  were  without  number.  Some  one  asked 
who  had  succeeded  Dr.  Mackarness  at  Honiton, — ‘ Is 
that  a question?’  exclaimed  Mansel.  ‘ Saddler  of  course 
after  make-har7iess! — The  conversation  happening  to  turn 
on  ghosts, — ‘You  know,  I suppose,  how  to  distinguish 
a real  ghost  from  a false  one?’  Nobody  knew.  ‘0 
then  I’ll  tell  you.  When  you  see  a ghost,  look  steadily  at 
him  : next,  put  your  forefinger  to  your  eye,  thus  ’ — (ap- 
plying the  extremity  of  his  finger  to  that  part  of  the 
organ  which  is  nearest  the  ear,) — ‘ and  work  your  eye 
about,  this  way  and  that  way.  If  you  perceive  that  the 
ghost  remains  stationary, — well,  it’s  a very  serious 
business  indeed.  But  if,  on  the  contrary,  you  notice 
that  he  moves  about  with  your  eye, — why  then,  ids  all 
wy  eyel — Dogmatism  was  mentioned.  ‘Dogmatism’  (ex- 
claimed Mansel)  ‘ is  puppyism  full  grown.’ — Something 


219 


1865]  The  Christian  Philosopher. 

was  said  about  the  spelling  of  difficult  names.  Mansel 
(turning  sharp  round  to  the  present  writer) — ‘You  know, 
of  course,  how  the  Chinese  Ambassador  spells  his  name?’ 
‘ Haven’t  the  faintest  notion.  Tell  us.’  For  all  reply, 
he  made  a click  with  his  tongue, — produced  a faint 
grunt, — and  breathed  a low  whistle.  The  triliteral  had 
been  produced  in  a second,  but  in  such  a style  that  no 
one, — (except  perhaps  Mr.  Corney  Grain), — could  have 
approached  it. — ‘ The  turf  ’ having  cropped  up  as  a topic, 
Mansel  gravely  told  us  of  a country  squire  who  was  the 
happy  owner  of  three  horses.  ‘ The  first  he  called  ‘ Salt- 
fish,’  because  it  was  a capital  horse  for  a fast  day:  the 
second  ‘ Naples,’  because  it  was  a heautiful  hay:  the  third 
‘ Morning  Star,’  because  it  was  a roarer. — Another  sport- 
ing man  of  his  acquaintance  drove  tandem  and  called 
the  leader  ^ Xerxes'.  We  were  invited  to  guess  the  name 
of  his  wheeler.  (It  was  ^ Arter-xerxesl  of  course.) 

But  when  alone  with  those  he  knew  and  loved  best, 
Mansel  would  sometimes  give  way  to  the  impulse  of  the 
moment, — perpetrate  the  most  atrocious  puns  imaginable 
on  anything  and  anybody, — no  matter  what  came  in  his 
way.  He  was  simply  irrepressible.  If  his  wife  at  last 
said  playfully, — ‘ No,  Henry,  I won’t  have  these  puns,’ 
— that  was  the  surest  way  to  set  him  off  on  a fresh  fiight 
of  absurdity.  His  friend  Professor  Chandler  writes  of 
him : — 

‘ He  was  one  of  the  most  cheerful  of  men  ; and  though 
T knew  him  for  so  many  years,  I hardly  remember  to 
have  seen  him  angry:  sulky  he  never  was.  On  the  very 
rare  occasions  on  which  I have  seen  him  put  out,  the 
thing  hardly  lasted  a minute : some  droll  image  sug- 
gested itself  to  his  mind,  and  his  frown  vanished  in  a 
smile  and  a joke.  One  day,  we  were  in  his  garden,  and 
about  to  seat  ourselves  at  a table  there.  The  birds  had 
defiled  the  table,  and  Mansel  stood  frowning  in  disgust. 


2 20  Henry  Longueville  Hansel:  [1865 

“ Here,”  (he  called  out  in  a vexed  voice  to  a servant,) 
“ come  and  clean  up  this  ” — (but  already  had  his  face 
assumed  a bright  smile  and  his  voice  completely  altered) 
— “ this  hirdliness^  for  ” (said  he,  turning  to  me)  “ I sup- 
pose one  could  hardly  call  it  beastliness.'' 

‘ At  all  times  he  was  “ light-armed  with  quips,  anti- 
theses, and  puns.”  Some  of  the  best  and  some  of  the 
most  atrocious  of  puns  did  he  make.  Occasionally,  when 
we  were  alone,  he  got  into  a sort  of  humour  of  absurdity, 
and  then  he  would  persist  in  playing  on  every  remark 
one  could  utter.  Capital  epigrams  in  Latin  and  in 
English  he  was  continually  writing.  . . . He  was  great 
at  guessing  riddles,  and  not  unfrequently  hit  upon  better 
answers  than  the  real  ones,  for  he  had  as  nimble  and 
merry  a mind  as  any  man  I ever  knew.  . . . Once,  when 
he  had  what  I should  call  one  of  his  merry  fits  of  ab- 
surdity on  him,  the  conversation  happened  to  turn  on 
the  rationalisation  of  classic  myths.  He  found  instantly 
some  ridiculous  reason  for  every  one  I could  mention. 
“ Well,”  I said  at  last,  “ what  do  you  say  to  Scylla  and 
her  dogs'?” — “O”  (said  Hansel,  affecting  a momentary 
stammer)  it  only  means  that  some  woman  had  a pain 
in  her  bow-woivQh,."  ’ 

An  illustration  presents  itself  of  a statement  which 
immediately  precedes.  Someone  asked  him, — ‘ Why  is 
a wife  like  a patten  ? ’ (expecting  the  stupid  answer, — 
‘ Because  she  is  a clog!)  Hansel  rejoined  immediately, — 
‘ Because  she  elevates  the  soul  ’ . . . (He  was  delivering 
his  own  blissful  experience.) 

The  same  devoted  friend  (above  quoted)  has  jotted 
down  a few  more  random  recollections  which  shall  be 
given  in  his  own  words.  They  are  of  unequal  interest, 
but  they  will  all  be  read  with  pleasure : — 

‘ Those  who  only  know  Dr.  Hansel  from  his  books, 
can  form  no  adequate  idea  of  the  man  as  he  actually 
was.  A hard-headed  disputant, — a rigid  theologian, — a 
strong  party  man  : yes,  he  was,  in  some  sense,  all  these  ; 


1865]  The  Christian  Philosopher. 


221 


but  hefore  all  these  he  was  a man  of  very  strong  feelings 
and  affections,  and  even  his  keen  mind  saw  things,  and 
very  often  persons,  through  a kindly  mist.  The  Faith  in 
which  he  had  been  taught  to  believe  as  a child,  he  held 
to  all  his  life  through,  with  a really  child-like  feeling. 
The  College  where  he  was  educated,  and  all  that  be- 
longed to  it,  he  loved  most  warmly  and  heartily.  Great 
was  his  delight  when  he  was  re-elected  fellow  of  S.  John’s 
after  his  marriage.  The  writers  of  whom  he  was  most 
fond, — Sir  Walter  Scott  for  instance  or  Miss  Austin, — 
he  would  defend  against  all  comers.  If  I attacked  Scott, 
(as  I often  did,  though  he  knew  I was  only  half,  if  half, 
in  earnest,)  he  would  launch  forth  into  an  eloquent  eulo- 
gium  of  his  favourite.  It  was  just  the  same  with  his 
friends : their  defects  were  in  his  eyes  eccentricities,  for 
which  he  had  a thousand  witty  excuses.  More  than 
once  I have  heard  him  declare  that  he  really  must  get 
himself  put  on  the  list  of  voters  for  the  City  of  Oxford, 
(this  was  when  he  lived  in  the  High  Street),  in  order 
that  he  might  vote  for  Charles  Neate, — Neate  being  a 
Eadical  and  Mansel  a staunch  Tory.  Nevertheless  he 
would  have  liked  to  vote  for  Neate,  (he  said,)  “ because 
he  was  an  honest  man,  and  a man  he  liked.”  ^ 

‘ He  had  a wonderfully  accurate  and  tenacious  memory. 


® No  one  who  knew,  could  fail  to 
love  and  honour,  Charles  Neate, — 
M.P.  for  the  city  of  Oxford  from 
1863  to  1868,  and  Fellow  of  Oriel 
for  51  years.  Several  incidental 
notices  of  this  dear  friend  and 
brother-Fellow,  in  the  present  vol- 
umes, may  be  discovered  by  refer- 
ence to  the  Index. 

Charles, — fifth  of  the  eleven  chil- 
dren of  the  Rev.  Thomas  Neate, 
Rector  of  Alvescot  (near  Faring- 
don,  Berks.),  and  Catharine  his 
wife, — was  born  at  Adstock,  Bucks., 
13th  June  1806. 

He  was  a truly  single-hearted, 
upright,  and  most  amiable  man; 
ever  the  champion  of  the  weaker 


cause,  and  the  eager  defender  of 
the  injured  or  oppressed  : sincerely 
pious,  but  abhorring  the  outward 
show  of  piety : a faithful  layman 
and  confessor — in  days  when  con- 
fessorship  was  rare.  Oriel  never 
had  a more  loyal  or  dutiful  son 
than  he.  His  great  abilities,  varied 
attainments,  and  elegant  scholar- 
ship, can  scarcely  be  said  to  have  en- 
joyed the  reward  they  deserved.  He 
carried  with  him  to  the  grave  (7th 
Feb.  1879)  the  afiectionate  regrets 
of  the  University  and  of  the  City, — 
heartily  beloved  as  well  as  re- 
spected, irrespectively  of  politics  or 
party.  He  sleeps  in  the  Church- 
yard of  Alvescot,  Oxfordshire. 


2 22  Henry  Longueville  Hansel:  [1865 

He  knew  most  of  the  best  passages  of  the  best  English, 
Latin,  and  Greek  poets  by  heart.  It  seemed  as  if  he  had 
merely  to  read  a thing  with  attention,  to  retain  it  for  an 
indefinite  time.  While  reading,  he  made  no  notes, — as 
note-taking  is  commonly  understood  : but  when  he  had 
done,  he  would  take  off  his  spectacles,  or  push  them 
back,  and  then  set  to  work  with  a pencil.  Passages 
that  he  wished  to  remember  he  marked  by  dashing  his 
pencil  down  the  margin,  and  noting  the  page  and  the 
substance  of  the  thing  on  the  fiy-leaf  or  cover.  Beyond 
this,  I never  saw  him  take  a note : his  vast  memory  did 
the  rest.  If  any  one  was  at  hand,  he  would  from  time 
to  time  express  his  assent  or  dissent  from  what  he  was 
reading.  A warm  summer’s  afternoon  comes  back  to 
me  as  I write  this.  He  held  in  his  hand  some  German 
theological  work  (I  forget  which,) — and  from  time  to  time 
uttered  in  a tone  of  deep  contempt  “ Bosh,”  till  at  last 
he  could  stand  it  no  longer.  “ What  do  you  think,”  (he 
cried  out)  “ of  a man  who  argues  in  this  way  'I  ” and  then 
came  a rapid  translation  of  the  offending  passage,  and 
an  indignant  refutation  of  its  reasoning. 

‘ Before  writing  anything,  he  would  sit  quite  still 
without  speaking  a word  for  an  hour  together  or  more. 
Having  got  his  matter  into  order  in  his  mind,  he  wrote 
it  out  right  off,  almost  without  a correction.  He  was 
very  particular  about  punctuation, — which  he  never 
would  leave  to  the  printer.  Many  a time  have  I heard 
him  find  fault  with  printers’  stops.  He  was  no  biblio- 
maniac, though  he  quite  understood  and  even  tolerated 
that  harmless  form  of  lunacy.  He  always  preferred  a 
well-bound  and  clean  copy  of  a book  to  a ragged  and 
poor  copy  ; but  never  indulged  in  large-paper,  expensive 
bindings,  or  similar  vanities.  When  he  bought  a book, 
it  was  in  order  to  read  it.  He  disliked  getting  rid  of 
books,  and  used  to  declare  that  he  had  hardly  ever 
parted  with  a volume  without  immediately  wanting  it 
back  again.  He  was  one  of  those  rare  men  to  whom  you 
might  lend  a book  safely : he  knew  how  to  handle  it. 

‘ I do  not  think  that  he  either  positively  liked  or  dis- 


223 


1865]  The  Christian  Philosopher. 

liked  music : he  was  however  always  fond  of  Scotch 
and  Cavalier  ballads,  and  old  English  songs.  As  far  as 
mere  feeling  went,  he  was  at  heart  a Cavalier ; and 
though  his  loyalty  was  unimpeachable,  he  had  I think  a 
secret  love  for  the  Stuarts. 

‘ Like  myself,  he  was  fond  of  going  to  see  conjurors. 
I remember  spending  a very  pleasant  evening  with  him 
at  the  Egyptian  Hall  where  he  was  as  delighted  as  the 
youngest  child  in  the  room,  with  Stodare’s  marvellous 
sleight  of  hand.  Indoor  games  of  all  sorts  he  entered 
into  with  great  zest,  hut  I never  saw  cards  played  in  the 
house, — except  once.  We  were  sitting  one  evening  in 
rather  a gloomy  condition.  He  was  not  quite  well ; 
tired,  and  unable  (or  at  least  unwilling)  to  read.  Think- 
ing that  amusement  would  be  good  for  him,  I proposed  a 
game  of  single-dummy  whist.  “ I would  play  if  it  would 
amuse  him,”  said  the  other  person  present,  (who  had 
been  brought  up  to  think  card-playing  a frivolous  pas- 
time,) “ only  it  is  impossible,  because  there  is  not  such  a 
thing  as  a pack  of  cards  in  the  house.”  At  this,  I 
noticed  a droll  twinkle  in  Hansel’s  eye ; so  I said,  “ But 
you  would  play  if  cards  could  be  had  1 ” “ Certainly.” 

Whereupon  Hansel,  with  a most  comical  face,  left  the 
room,  and  presently  returned  with  a box  in  which  were 
whist-counters  and  two  packs  of  almost  unused  cards. 
He  was  playfully  attacked  for  his  concealment  of  these 
contraband  articles,  and  after  a humorous  and  successful 
defence,  we  sat  down  and  played  such  games  of  whist 
as  have,  I should  think,  rarely  been  played  before.  Hansel 
laughed  so  much,  that  when  I left  them  he  was  quite 
another  man  from  what  he  had  been  at  the  commence- 
ment of  the  evening.  In  fact,  he  liked  all  innocent 
amusements. 

‘ A man’s  private  and  home  life  is,  in  my  opinion,  a 
thing  too  sacred  to  be  exposed  to  public  gaze  ; but  this 
I may  say,  (I  hope  without  offence,)  that  I cannot  imagine 
any  one  to  have  been  more  completely  happy  in  all  such 
relations  than  he  was.  Bright  and  good  everywhere,  he 
was  at  his  best  in  his  own  house ; where  his  happiness 


224  Henry  Longueville  Mansel:  [1865 

was  not  interrupted  by  even  a passing  cloud.  So  it  was, 
and  so  it  ought  to  have  been,  for  he  was  a good  and  true 
man  in  all  the  relations  of  life. 

‘ Of  my  friend,  as  a friend,  I have  said  nothing.  I 
cannot.  He  has  been  dead  some  years,  yet  his  loss  is  as 
fresh  to  me  as  though  it  had  happened  only  yesterday. 
Every  day,  I see  and  hear  him  in  fancy ; for,  go  where  I 
will,  there  is  something  to  remind  me  of  him.  It  is  bad 
enough  to  have  lost  him  ; but  I cannot  put  on  paper,  for 
the  gratification  of  strangers,  a statement  of  the  great- 
ness of  my  loss.’ 

Such  words  kindle  expiring  memories  and  summon 
back  vanished  scenes.  All  that  has  been  said  about  his 
domestic  happiness, — the  unruffled  serenity  and  un- 
dimmed brightness  of  his  home, — is  true  to  the  life. 
One  also  recalls  with  pleasure  his  playfulness  with 
children,  and  his  willing  condescension  to  their  measure 
of  intelligence.  He  was  for  a few  days  the  guest  of  the 
late  Archd.  Rose  at  Houghton  Conquest  Rectory.  The 
morning  was  cold  and  inclement,  and  the  children  of  the 
family,  attracted  by  his  playful  wit,  were  heard  appeal- 
ing to  him  as  follows : — ‘ What  do  you  think  uncle  said 
just  now  h He  said  “ It’s  a raw  day — as  the  lion  said  to 
the  bear.”  Now,  shouldn’t  you  call  that  a very  bad 
pun  V ‘ O quite  horrid.’  ‘ Look  here,  he  mea^it  it  for 
raw,  but  he  pronounced  it  roar.'  ‘ 0 yes,’  (laughing)  ‘ I 
quite  understand.’  . . . After  examining  Bp.  Berkeley’s 
MSS.  (which  was  the  object  of  his  visit)  he  was  found  at 
the  piano  in  the  drawing-room,  surj’ounded  by  the  same 
little  troop, — singing  with  much  unction,  and  attempt- 
ing to  play  ‘ Three  little  kittens  had  lost  their  mittens.’ 

The  loveliest  feature  of  his  character,  beyond  question, 
was  his  profound  humility, — added  to  his  simple  child- 
like piety.  Having  thoroughly  convinced  himself, — (as 


1 866]  The  Christian  Philosopher. 


225 


every  thoughtful  man  may,  who  will  but  honestly  take 
the  necessary  pains,) — that  the  Bible  must  needs  be, 
what  it  claims  to  be,  namely,  the  very  Word  of  God, — 
he  prostrated  his  Reason  before  it ; accepted  all  its 
wondrous  revelations  with  a most  unquestioning  faith. 
‘The  Resurrection  of  Christ’  (he  used  to  say)  ‘is  the 
great  Miracle.  Once  establish,  once  grant  that^  and  all 
other  Miracles  follow.  Nothing  is  difficult  after  thatT 
And  the  Resurrection  of  our  Lord  ‘ on  the  third  day,’  at 
least,  is  a thing  established, — established  by  an  amount 
of  ‘infallible  proof’ without  a parallel. — Mansel’s  pre- 
vailing thought,  when  he  spoke  about  the  mysterious 
parts  of  Scripture,  was  the  accession  of  light  to  be  en- 
joyed by  faithful  men  hereafter;  whereby  the  hidden 
things  of  God  will  become  not  only  intelligible,  but  even 
easy  to  be  apprehended.  It  may  be  allowable  to  intro- 
duce in  this  place  one  of  his  letters  to  the  Earl  of 
Carnarvon.  It  was  w^ritten  from  Oxford,  25th  Feb. 
1866:— 

‘ My  dear  Lord  Carnarvon, — I send  you  a sermon  of 
Pusey’s®  in  which  I think  you  will  be  interested,  both 
on  its  own  account,  and  because  it  touches  on  a question 
in  which  you  have  lately  taken  part,  and  helps  to  expose 
the  real  shallowness  of  the  objections  which  lie  at  the 
bottom  of  the  opposition  against  you.  There  is  a little 
note  of  mine  at  the  end  of  the  sermon,  which  arose  from 
a conversation  I had  with  Pusey  the  day  after  it  was 


® ‘ The  Miracles  of  Prayer, — 
preached  before  the  University  on 
Septuagesima  Sunday,  1866,’  pp. 
35. — ManseTs  letter  is  found  at 
p.  33  of  the  discourse. 

This  Sermon,  with  the  note  at 
the  end,  effectually  disposes  of 
Prof.  Tyndall’s  alleged  difficulties. 
Strange,  that  men  should  not  see 
that  the  fixedness  of  which  they 
YOL.  II.  Q 


speak  is  in  the  Law:  not  in  the 
occasions  when  its  operation  will 
he  manifested.  ‘We  do  not  ask 
the  chemist  to  violate  the  laws  of 
Chemistry,  but  to  produce  a par- 
ticular result  in  accordance  with 
those  laws.  Do  we  necessarily  do 
more  than  this,  when  we  pray  that 
God  will  remove  from  us  a disease  ?’ 
— (P-  35-) 


2 26  Henry  Longueville  Mansel:  [1866 

preached.  I believe  that  the  real  basis  of  the  whole 
controversy  against  the  prevalent  Materialism  of  the 
present  day  lies  in  the  question  of  the  Human  Will. 
Once  concede  that  the  will  of  Man  is  free ; and  no 
Philosophy,  say  what  it  may  of  fixed  laws,  can  ever 
really . upset  the  truths  dictated  by  man’s  religious 
instincts.  This  is  why  I look  on  the  philosophy  of  such 
people  as  Mr.  Mill  as  so  utterly  mischievous ; because 
the  question  of  Free  will  or  Ho  free  will^  is  really  the 
question  of  Belief  or  No  belief.  If  I am  a person  capable, 
within  certain  limits,  of  influencing  the  phenomena  of 
Nature  by  my  personal  will,  I can  believe  in  a Personal 
God  who  can  influence  them  still  more.  If  I am  a thing 
subject  to  purely  material  laws,  the  sooner  I go  the  way 
of  other  things  the  better.  If  I am  merely  a part  of  the 
Universe,  I am  content  to  be  resolved,  as  soon  as  may  be, 
into  the  gases  which  pervade  the  Universe.  My  free 
will  is  the  only  thing  which  makes  me  better  than  a 
gas.’ 

The  remark  may  be  hazarded  in  this  place  that  should 
the  day  ever  come  for  collecting  Dean  Mansel’s  letters, 
with  a view  to  compiling  a more  full  and  particular 
biographical  notice  than  the  present,  difficulty  will  be 
experienced  in  recovering  adequate  specimens  of  his 
correspondence.  The  reason  for  this  opinion  will  be 
apparent  to  every  one  acquainted  with  the  nature  of 
College  life.  Living  within  a few  minutes^  walk  of  one 
another, — able  to  meet,  nay,  meeting  every  day, — resident 
members  of  the  same  University  seldom  or  never  write 
to  one  another.  A short  playful  note,  confidential  (if 
that  were  possible)  to  a fault : — a few  enigmatical  words 
scrawled  on  the  scrap  of  paper  nearest  at  hand: — a 
challenge  to  take  a walk, — to  partake  of  a meal, — or  to 
meet  a friend: — such  frail  relics  of  happy  days  which 
fled  all  too  quickly,  are  all  that  most  of  us  have  to  show 
of  our  College  intimacies  with  men  who  have  since  made 


1 866]  The  Christian  Philosopher.  227 

themselves  and  Oxford  famous.  ...  As  to  friends  at  a 
distance,  Mansel  always  preferred  inducing  them  to  visit 
him  at  his  own  house,  to  opening  his  intellectual  views 
and  the  feelings  of  his  heart  in  correspondence.  The 
depth  and  reality  of  the  man  made  him  somewhat  averse 
to  expressing  himself  in  these  respects  upon  paper.  A 
letter,  he  held  to  be  too  limited  an  area  for  the  discussion 
of  a mental  problem.  At  the  same  time,  his  genuineness 
of  soul  made  him  shrink  from  the  very  appearance  of 
overstating  (though  that  was  impossible)  the  intensity  of 
his  regard  for  his  friends,  or  the  earnestness  of  his  moral 
and  religious  convictions. — It  may  be  added  that  the 
Dean  kept  no  Diary ; and  observed  the  practice  of  pre- 
serving only  such  letters  as  related  to  business  matters, 
or  were  immediately  connected  with  any  inquiry  he  had 
in  hand. 

It  seems  worth  recording  that  he  used  to  begin  his 
work  in  the  morning,  scarcely  ever  later  than  6.30. 
Often  he  was  in  his  study  by  5.30  a.m.  His  fire  was 
laid  overnight,  and  he  lighted  it  himself,  when  he 
pleased.  He  never  sat  up  late  to  work  ....  Once, 
seeing  him  heavy  and  troubled  with  a mental  problem 
which  eluded  him  in  its  issue,  his  wife  suggested  to  him 
that  he  should  ‘ defer  the  matter  for  a time  : on  returning 
to  the  subject,  perhaps  the  difficulty  would  disappear.’ 
A day  or  two  after,  he  told  her  that  in  the  flight  all  had 
become  plain  to  him.  When  he  awoke  in  the  morning, 
it  was  as  if  the  mist  had  cleared  away.  The  difficulty 
was  surmounted. 

At  the  close  of  the  year  1866,  Lord  Derby,  then 
Prime  Minister,  announced  to  Mansel  his  intention  of 
submitting  his  name  to  Her  Majesty  for  the  Kegius 
Professorship  of  Ecclesiastical  History  in  the  University 

Q ^ 


228  Henry  Longueville  Hansel  : [1866 

of  Oxford ; which  had  been  rendered  vacant  (30th 
November  1866)  by  the  lamented  death  of  Dr.  Shirley, 
-^at  the  early  age  of  thirty-eight.  Connected  with  the 
Chair  is  a Canomy  and  residence  at  Christ  Church, — 
whither  in  due  course  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Mansel  removed,  and 
the  Professor  entered  eagerly  on  the  duties  of  his  office. 
There  were  not  wanting  some  (as  usual  on  such 
occasions)  to  intimate  that  the  Philosopher  and  Meta- 
physician would  be  out  of  place  in  the  domain  of 
Ecclesiastical  History;  and  that  political  favour  had 
placed  him  in  a sphere  alien  to  his  ordinary  pursuits. 
The  men  who  so  spoke  were  not  aware  that,  though  the 
accidents  of  Mansel’s  literary  life  had  given  pre-eminence 
to  his  Philosophical  tastes,  his  earliest  predilections  had 
been  in  favour  of  Theological  study;  that  he  had  never 
ceased  to  cultivate  Divinity  as  a Science ; and  that  there 
are  vast  provinces  of  Ecclesiastical  History  which  can 
only  be  successfully  occupied  by  one  who  is  thoroughly 
versed  in  ancient  and  modern  Philosophy. 

Be  this  as  it  may,  the  practical  refutation  of  adverse 
opinion,  by  whomsoever  entertained,  proved  complete. 
Mansel  held  the  Chair  for  barely  two  years,  (viz.  from 
Jan.  1867  until  Oct.  1868),  but  it  was  a period  long 
enough  to  enable  him  to  outlive  detraction  and  to  leave 
his  mark  for  good  behind  him.  In  the  Lent  Term  of 
1868,  he  delivered  before  the  University  a course  of 
Lectures  on  the  Gnostic  Heresies ; which  (worked  up 
and  enlarged)  he  seems  to  have  designed  ultimately  for 
publication.  The  MSS.  of  those  Lectures,  at  all  events, 
after  due  deliberation  were  thought  valuable  even  in 
their  present  state,  and  were  found  to  be  in  a suffi- 
ciently finished  condition  to  warrant  their  appearing 
as  a posthumous  work.  The  present  Bp.  of  Durham, 
(then  Dr.  Lightfoot,  Canon  of  S.  Paul’s,)  undertook  the 


229 


1 868]  The  Christian  Philosopher. 

labour  of  editing  them ; while  Lord  Carnarvon  con- 
tributed that  sketch  of  the  Deanes  ‘ Work,  Life,  and 
Character^  to  which  reference  has  been  made  already. 
Certainly  no  work  of  equal  interest  on  the  ‘ Gnostic 
Heresies  of  the  First  and  Second  centuries!  has  hitherto 
appeared  in  the  English  Language. 

It  should  have  been  sooner  mentioned  that  Dr.  Jeune, 
Master  of  Pembroke,  on  being  appointed  to  the  See  of 
Peterborough  in  1 864,  selected  Mansel  to  be  his  examin- 
ing Chaplain.  It  was  at  his  Consecration  (S.  Peter’s 
Day  1864)  that  Mansel  preached  a sermon  which  was 
subsequently  published  and  well  merits  attentive  pe- 
rusal,— ^The  Witness  of  the  Church  to  the  Promise  of  CerisF s 
Coming!  His  work  at  Peterborough,  where  he  held  an 
honorary  Canonry  until  his  death,  terminated  a few 
months  before  his  connection  with  Christ  Church  was 
ended,  by  the  Bishop’s  lamented  decease.  In  the 
Sermon  which  he  preached  on  this  latter  occasion,  Man- 
sel pays  an  eloquent  (and  well-merited)  tribute  to  the 
Bishop’s  steadfast  sincerity  of  purpose, — his  integrity 
and  faithfulness  in  the  discharge  of  his  solemn  trust. ^ 

The  same  year  (1868)  which  brought  to  a close  his 
connection  with  Bishop  Jeune,  witnessed  Mansel’s  trans- 
ference from  Christ  Church  to  the  Deanery  of  S.  Paul’s. 
The  proposal  to  present  his  name  to  Her  Majesty 
was  conveyed  in  most  kind  terms  by  Mr.  Disraeli, 
then  Prime  Minister,  and  was  at  once  gratefully 
accepted.  No  man  ever  loved  Oxford  more  ardently 
than  did  Henry  Mansel,  but  the  course  of  recent  events 
within  the  University  had  been  supremely  distasteful 
and  distressing  to  him.  He  entertained  the  gravest 

^ Mansel’s  is  the  former  of  ‘ Two  Cathedral,  Aug.  30,  1868/  &c. — 
Sermons  'preached  m Peterlorough  Parker,  pp.  24. 


2 30  Henry  Longueville  Mansel  : [1868 

apprehensions  for  the  future  of  Oxford  and  of  the  Church. 
My  friend  Henry  Deane  (of  S.  John’s)  writes, — 

‘ Hansel’s  last  advice  to  me  was, — “ Prepare  to  defend 
the  Existence  of  God  and  the  Free-will  of  Man.  Those 
are  the  points  of  controversy  upon  which  the  world 
is  turning  at  present.”  He  lent  me  some  books  on  these 
subjects,  and  also  (much  to  my  surprise)  gave  me  some 
most  valuable  advice  as  to  the  best  books  to  be  read  in 
connection  with  Old  Testament  Criticism.  This  must 
have  been  in  1870.’^ 

Not  least,  the  daily  pressure  of  University  business, 
even  more  than  his  actual  Professorial  duties,  was 
telling  seriously  on  his  health.  All  who  within  the  last 
30  or  40  years  have  resided  continuously  in  Oxford,  and 
have  endeavoured  to  lead  a studious  life  there,  know 
something  about  this  matter  to  their  cost.  But  /lis  was 
a peculiarly  busy  existence ; in  the  midst  of  which,  he 
was  always  eagerly  reaching  out  for  a season  of  leisure 
— which  was  destined  never  to  arrive.  He  cherished 
the  expectation  that  the  position  thus  offered  him  in 
London  would  leave  a margin  of  leisure  for  carrying 
out  his  many  literary  engagements  with  less  interrup- 
tion and  pressure.  Not  that,  at  first,  he  experienced 
such  a result ; but  it  was  hoped  that  at  least  the  change 
of  occupation  might  prove  a benefit.  Much  had  to  be 
done  at  S.  Paul’s.  The  time  was  come  for  commuting 
the  Estates  of  the  Cathedral : and  it  was  no  light  enter- 
prise to  calculate  and  weigh  the  claims  of  the  various 
interests  which  were  concerned  in  the  vast  machinery 
connected  with  the  great  Church  of  the  metropolis. 
This  was  nearly  completed  at  the  time  of  his  death ; 
and  it  was  on  the  basis  of  his  calculations  that  the 
liberal  arrangements  of  the  Ecclesiastical  Commissioners 
were  subsequently  effected. 

^ To  myself, — Feb.  14,  1885. 


231 


1869]  The  Christian  Philosopher. 

The  only  relaxation  which  he  allowed  himself  during 
his  residence  in  London  was  a six  weeks’  holiday  at 
Cosgrove  Hall,  the  residence  of  his  brother-in-law.  On 
the  first  of  these  occasions  (July  1869),  the  village  being 
but  50  miles  from  London,  Mrs.  Mansel  suggested  to  her 
husband  that  they  should  drive  down  in  an  open  carriage 
(by  way  of  Dunstable),  taking  the  journey  in  two  stages. 
They  started  early  on  a delicious  July  morning,  in  order 
to  enjoy  the  charm  of  the  fresh  country  air  almost 
before  the  dew  was  off  the  ground ; breakfasting  at 
Barnet.  It  proved  a drive  of  intense  enjoyment  to  him. 
He  recognized  at  every  instant  some  old  familiar  sight, 
— village  or  landscape  which  he  had  not  seen  since  the 
boyish  days  when  he  used  to  travel  along  that  same 
road  by  coach : and  he  delighted  himself  with  recog- 
nizing the  once  familiar,  now  half-forgotten  surnames, 
which  occasionally  met  his  eye.  But  though  he  had  left 
London  for  rest,  he  did  not  find  it.  Scarcely  a week 
passed  without  his  being  recalled  to  London  on  business 
connected  with  the  Cathedral.  Nor,  while  he  was  at 
the  Hall,  was  he  able  to  shake  himself  free  from  oc- 
cupation. Every  spare  moment  he  devoted  to  the  work 
which  he  had  commenced  in  1863,  for  the  Speaker’s 
Commentary.  A portion  of  his  original  task  he  had 
been  constrained  to  relinquish,  but  the  first  two  Gospels 
he  was  persuaded  to  retain.  Ever  punctual  in  matters 
of  business,  and  conscientious  in  the  discharge  of  what- 
ever obligations  he  incurred,  it  was  a matter  of  real 
concern  to  him  that  he  had  been  unable  to  fulfil  his  en- 
gagement to  complete  this  work  at  an  earlier  period.  It 
now  fairly  blocked  the  way,  and  prevented  him  from 
doing  anything  else.  This  debt,  he  felt,  must  be  dis- 
charged first. 

Meanwhile  the  proposed  decoration  of  his  Cathedral 


232  Henry  Longueville  Hansel  : [1871 

largely  interested  as  well  as  occupied  him.  On  suc- 
ceeding to  the  Deanery,  he  had  determined  with  the 
other  members  of  the  Chapter,  to  make  a fresh  effort 
towards  achieving  this  object, — (it  had  been  a favourite 
aspiration  with  the  great  architect  himself), — and  he 
was  greatly  encouraged  by  the  response  the  appeal 
had  met  with.  Over  35,000/.  was  subscribed  almost 
within  a year.  But  he  was  not  destined  to  see  even  the 
commencement  of  the  work  of  adorning  the  interior  of 
S.  Paul’s. 


The  last  act  permitted  him  in  connection  with  the 
proposed  improvements,  was  to  authorize  the  removal  of 
the  organ  from  the  North-west  bay  to  the  entrance  of 
the  Choir,  and  to  place  the  morning  (or  North)  chapel 
in  the  hands  of  the  work-people  for  renovation.  Little 
can  he  have  imagined  that  within  a brief  space,  the 
window  of  that  same  chapel  would  contain  a stained 
glass  memorial  to  himself ! ^ . . . Having  seen  these 
arrangements  commenced,  the  Dean  and  Mrs.  Mansel 
left  London  as  they  had  done  in  previous  years, — 
reaching  Cosgrove  Hall  on  Saturday,  the  15th  July, 
1871.  His  intention  was  to  return  to  the  Deanery  from 
time  to  time,  in  order  to  superintend  the  progress  of  the 
Cathedral  work. 


It  was  remarked  that  he  seemed  more  oppressed  with 
weariness  than  on  former  occasions  ; but  it  was  hoped 


^ That  memorial  window,  repre- 
senting the  incredulity  of  S.  Thomas, 
was  unveiled  on  S.  Paul’s  Day, 
1879.  The  inscription  is  by  Dr. 
Hessey,  Archdeacon  of  Middlesex : — 
In-D’  0-M- gloriam • et • in • recorda- 
tionem-Henrici  • Longveville  • Man- 
sel-ST-P-  [ decani Aivivs-ecclesiae^ 
mdccclxviii  — Ixxi  | viri  • ornati  | 


pi  elate  • erga  • Devm  • integritate  • 
morvm  • hilaritate  • indolis  | ervdi- 
tione  • propemodvm  • vniversa  • me- 
moria  • tenacissvma  | dialectici  • histo- 
rici  . theologi  | scriptoria  • optvme- 
meriti  • de  • indagantihvs  • qvi  • sint~ 
in  • rehvs  • divinis  | fidei  • limites  • 
gvi  • rationi  • Tivmanae  • adsignandi  | 
natvs  • mdcccxx  • decessit  • mdccclxii. 


1871]  The  Christian  Philosopher.  233 

that  the  quiet  of  his  old  home,  and  the  refreshment  of 
horse  exercise  (which  he  greatly  enjoyed),  would  be  at- 
tended by  its  usual  salutary  effect.  Nor  indeed  was  there 
any  apparent  reason  for  apprehending  any  other  issue. 

At  the  end  of  one  short  fortnight,  every  scheme  for 
the  future, — all  earthly  hopes  and  fears,  all  earthly  joys 
and  sorrows, — were  for  ever  hushed  to  rest.  But  the 
reader  will  perhaps  share  the  belief  of  one  of  Mansel’s 
friends,  that  half — it  may  be  ^olwlly — unconsciously,  a 
secret  presentiment  was  conveyed  to  his  inmost  soul 
that  something  solemn  was  impending.  It  is  impossible 
to  recall  an  utterance  of  his  to  his  Wife  at  this  time, — 
‘You  have  made  me  so  happy!’ — without  connecting  it 
with  what  so  speedily  followed,  and  regarding  it  as  the 
language  of  valedictory  love.  . . . After  Mrs.  Milman's  in- 
terment in  S.  Paul’s,  about  a month  before,  he  is  re- 
membered to  have  exclaimed, — ‘Whose  turn  will  it  be 
next  ? ’ . . . Another  slight  incident  to  be  presently  re- 
corded suggests  the  same  suspicion. 

It  should  be  mentioned  that  at  this  juncture  he  paid 
a two-days’  visit  to  Oxford  in  order  to  be  present  at  the 
Magdalen  College  ‘ gaudy.’  Several  persons  remarked 
that  when  called  upon  after  the  dinner  to  respond  to  a 
toast  on  that  occasion,  he  surpassed  himself.  Old  friends 
rejoicing  to  welcome  him  back,  observed  with  satisfaction 
that  much  of  the  old  weary  look  had  passed  away.  One 
who  was  present  writes  as  follows  ; — 

‘ The  last  occasion  of  our  meeting  was  the  Magdalen 
Commemoration,  on  S.  Mary  Magdalen’s  Day  (Saturday, 
22nd  July),  1871.  The  Bishop  of  Winchester  and  the 
Dean  of  S.  Paul’s  were  the  principal  guests.  Both 
spoke  effectively : but  the  latter,  it  was  observed,  was 
fluent  and  felicitous  beyond  his  wont.  Even  after  the 


234 


Henry  Longueville  Hansel  : [1871 

polished  oratory  of  Wilberforce,  Mansel  appeared  at  no 
disadvantage  ; and  while  he  touched  with  pathos  on  the 
prospects  of  the  Church  and  with  humour  on  the  policy 
of  the  Government,  little  did  any  one  imagine  that  his 
voice  would  never  again  be  heard  in  Oxford.’  ^ 

He  returned  to  Cosgrove  on  the  Monday.  Mrs.  Mansel 
noticed  that  throughout  the  week  he  was  exceedingly 
thoughtful,  which  slightly  troubled  her.  He  seemed 
very  low, — for  which  there  was  no  apparent  cause.  He 
occupied  himself  daily  with  his  Commentary  on  S. 
Matthew’s  Gospel.  On  Friday  he  took  with  his  wife 
the  Sunday  walk  which  he  had  always  taken,  as  a child, 
with  his  Father  and  Mother  after  Divine  Service.  ‘ And 
that  was  our  last  walk !’  . . . He  had  ah-eady  mentioned, — 
(it  was  indeed  a matter  to  which  he  had  often  before 
adverted), — that  he  desired  to  sleep  in  death  with  his 
Parents ; and  now,  (on  their  way  from  the  Hall  to  the 
Vicarage,)  as  they  passed  the  spot  where  his  Father  lies 
buried, — ‘ That's  where  I meant,’  he  said,  pointing  to  the 
spot.  . . . On  the  morrow,  in  the  forenoon,  he  wrote  the 
concluding  words  of  his  Commentary,  and  in  the  after- 
noon added  something  to  his  ^Fragment'  on  Bp.  Berkeley.^ 
He  was  looking  forward  to  a visit  to  London  on  Chapter 
business  on  the  ensuing  Monday : and  knowing  how 
entirely  this  would  occupy  him,  he  seemed  bent  on 
making  all  possible  progress  with  his  literary  under- 
takings now.  But  that  was  destined  to  be  his  last  day’s 
work.  The  next  day  was  Sunday. 

He  attended  Divine  Service  both  morning  and  after- 

* From  the  Kev.  E.  T.  Turner, — casion  of  Prof.  Fraser’s  edition  of 
Fellow  of  B.N.C.,  Registrar  of  the  Berkeley’s  Collected  Works, — 4vols. 
University, — Jan.  3rd,  1874.  8vo.  1871.  See  ^Lectures,  Letters 

® It  was  to  have  been  a contribu-  and  Reviews,'  p.  381-91. 
tion  to  the  ‘ Q.  Review,'  on  the  oc- 


235 


1871]  The  Christian  Philosopher. 

noon ; and,  according  to  his  wont,  retired  early  to  rest. 
He  had  said  his  private  prayers : had  laid  himself  down 
on  his  bed  : had  spoken  a few  loving  words:  and  was 
silent.  He  may  have  fallen  asleep.  Between  10  and 
II  o’clock,  his  wife  thought  she  heard  him  breathe 
uneasily,  and  spoke  to  him.  Obtaining  no  reply,  she 
rose  instantly,  procured  a light,  and  found, — that  his 
spirit  had  departed  ...  A surgeon  was  instantly  sent 
for,  who  explained  that  instantaneous  dissolution  had 
been  occasioned  by  the  rupture  of  a small  blood-vessel 
at  the  base  of  the  brain.  His  change  had  come  without 
the  slightest  warning.  There  had  not  been  a moment’s 
consciousness  that  he  was  passing  out  of  Time  into 
Eternity. 

Thus,  on  the  night  of  Sunday,  30th  July  1871,  at  the 
comparatively  early  age  of  51, — a shorter  term  of  years 
even  than  had  .been  allotted  to  his  Father, — Henry 
Longueville  Mansel  entered  interest.  On  the  morrow, 
the  mournful  strains  of  the  organ,  and  the  tolling  of  the 
great  bell  of  S.  Paul’s,  conveyed  the  first  intelligence  of 
the  event  to  thousands  in  the  metropolis ; and  on  the 
ensuing  Saturday  he  was  laid,  as  he  desired,  near  his 
Father,  in  the  quiet  corner  of  Cosgrove  Churchyard 
where  his  ancestors  for  more  than  two  centuries  had 
been  interred  before  him,  and  where  his  Mother  has 
since  been  laid.  Over  his  own  last  resting-place,  his 
Wife  was  careful  to  cause  to  be  inscribed  his  own 
favourite  text: — ^ Now  we  see  through  a glass,  darkly ; hut 
then,  face  to  face:  Now  1 knoio  in  part;  hut  then  shall  I 
know  even  as  also  I am  known! 

Affecting  it  is,  in  connection  with  what  goes  imme- 
diately before,  to  recall  certain  words  which  Mansel 


236  Henry  Longueville  Hansel  : [1871 

wrote  in  1859.  Some  have  asked  (he  says) — ‘What, 
upon  these  principles,  will  be  the  character  of  our 
Knowledge  in  a Future  State?’ 

‘ I am  content  to  reply,  I do  not  know.  My  conclu- 
sions, such  as  they  are,  are  deduced  from  certain  facts  of 
human  consciousness  in  this  present  life.  To  what 
extent  those  facts  will  remain,  and  how  they  will  modify 
our  knowledge,  in  a future  life  ; — what  is  the  exact 
nature  of  the  change  implied  by  the  Apostle’s  distinction 
between  seeing  “through  a glass  darkly”  and  “face  to 
face;” — is  a question  which  I do  not  find  answered  in 
Scripture,  and  which  I am  unable  to  answer  without. 
I am  co?itent  to  believe  that  we  shall  have  that  kind  and  degree 
of  Knowledge  which  is  best  for  usl'^ 


How  deeply  the  loss  of  such  an  one  as  Henry  Mansel 
was  deplored  by  as  many  as  had  known  and  loved  him, 
need  not  be  told.  His  friend  and  patron,  Lord  Carnar- 
von, expressed  the  sentiment  of  many  hearts  when  he  thus 
addressed  his  Widow : — 

‘ Time,  as  it  has  rolled  on,  has  made  me  only  feel  the 
loss  of  his  friendship  more  and  more  severely;  and,  over 
and  over  again,  I find  myself  going  back  in  memory  to 
things  that  he  said  or  did,  or  in  which  we  were  both 
engaged.  It  was  one  of  those  true  friendships  which 
grew  with  every  year  that  passed  over  them,  and  which 
have  not  ceased  with  life.’  ^ 

Let  it  be  declared  in  conclusion  concerning  the  Theo- 
logian, Metaphysician,  and  Philosopher,  whose  earthly 
career  has  thus  been  traced  in  outline, — that  although 
he  will  be  chiefly  remembered  by  posterity  for  the  pro- 
fundity of  his  intellect, — as  by  his  contemporaries  he 
was  chiefly  noted  for  the  brilliancy  of  his  wit ; — yet,  by 

’ Preface  to  the  ivth  ed.  of  ‘ Bamp-  ® To  Mrs. Mansel, — ‘PixtonParJc, 

tonLectures’ (footnote [p] abridged).  Dulverton, — ~M.a,xch.  1885.’ 


iSyi]  The  Christian  Philosopher, 


237 


those  who  knew  him  best,  he  wilb  while  memory  lasts, 
be  held  in  reverence  chiefly  for  his  simple  Piety, — his 
unfeigned  Humility, — the  unquenchable  ardour  of  his 
childlike  Faith.  The  great  lesson  of  his  life  was  the  use 
which  he  made  of  his  opportunities : his  devotion  to  his 
Master’s  service  : the  unflagging  zeal  with  which  he 
toiled  on  to  the  very  edge  of  darkness.  His  summons 
came  to  him  at  last  suddenly, — as  he  hoped  it  would 
come  ; but  it  found  the  ‘ good  and  faithful  servant  ’ with 
‘ his  loins  girded  about  and  his  light  burning and  him- 
self ‘ like  unto  a man  that  waiteth  for  his  Lord.’ 


“ No  life  spent  in  Chkist’s  service,  however  short,” — (to 
take  leave  of  him  with  a few  beautiful  words  of  his  own), — 
“is  really  incomplete : no  good  work  done  in  His  Name  and 
for  His  sake,  can  be  broken  off  and  come  utterly  to  an 
end.  The  seed  that  is  hidden  from  our  sight  is  growing 
secretly  in  the  ground : the  life  that  is  taken  away  from 
the  eyes  of  men  is  even  now  fulfilling  its  purpose  in  the 
great  invisible  scheme  of  God’s  providence  and  grace. 
The  disappointed  hopes, — the  unaccomplished  purposes, 
— the  half- wrought  works  of  Faith  and  Love  which  the 
hand  of  death  has  severed  in  the  midst, — are  not  things 
of  earthly  origin,  to  perish  where  they  have  their  birth. 
Those  works  are  done  in  a strength  which  cometh  not 
of  Man,  but  of  God.  They  go  back  to  Him  from  whom 
they  came,  and  for  whom  they  were  done.”^  And 
those  purposes  shall  yet  obtain  accomplishment ; and 
those  hopes  shall  yet  enjoy  fruition.  Is  it  not  written, 
— “ They  that  sow  in  tears  shall  reap  in  joy”? 

® Sermon  on  the  Death  of  Bp.  Jeune,  (p.  14,) — quoted  above. 


(X).  WILLIAM  JACOBSON : 


THE  SINGLE-MINDED  BISHOP. 

[A.D.  1803—1884.] 

T AM  next  to  draw  the  portrait,  and  to  relate  the  prin- 
cipal  incidents  in  the  life  of  William  J acobson,  D.D., 
— the  learned,  faithful,  and  pious  Bishop  of  Chester  from 
1865  to  1884.  For  want  of  an  apter  epithet,  he  is  here 
styled, — “ The  sm^le-mmcledBishoip.”  Had  there  existed  in 
the  language  a word  expressive  of  the  “ un-self-assert- 
ing,” “un-self-conscious”  character,  I should  have  availed 
myself  of  it.  But  there  exists  no  such  single  word.  . . . 
It  was  before  he  became  a Bishop,  however, — at  Oxford 
it  was,  and  in  connection  with  the  University, — that,  for 
about  three-and-twenty  years  [1842-65],  I chiefly  knew 
William  Jacobson.  From  1830  to  1865,  his  was  one  of 
the  most  familiar  of  academic  forms ; and  he  had  a 
marked  individuality  of  address  and  character  which 
will  cause  his  memory  to  linger  on  to  the  end,  with  all 
who  ever  knew  him.  Shall  I be  thought  presumptuous 
if  I avow  that  by  the  picture  I am  about  to  draw,  I 
cherish  the  affectionate  hope  that  the  image  of  the  man 
I loved  will  long  outlive  the  memory  of  the  present 
generation  ? 

The  story  of  his  early  life  has  never  yet  been  correctly 
related.  He  was  born  of  Church-of-England  parents, 


1803]  The  Single-minded  Bishop, 


239 


(William  Jacobson  and  Judith  Clarke), — at  Great  Yar- 
mouth, on  the  1 8th  July,  1803.  His  father  was  cut  off 
at  the  age  of  twenty-five,  while  he  was  but  chief  clerk  to 
a firm  of  Yarmouth  shipowners.  It  was  a time  of  great 
public  excitement  and  alarm,  in  consequence  of  Bona- 
parte’s threatened  invasion,  which  it  was  expected  would 
take  effect  on  the  Norfolk  coast  near  Yarmouth.  William 
Jacobson  was  an  enthusiastic  volunteer,  who,  having 
for  security  sent  his  wife  to  London  with  her  infant  son, 
attended  a church  parade  in  November,  when  all  got 
drenched.  He  was  the  only  Officer  who  went  to  church. 
Inflammation  of  the  lungs  with  congestion  set  in  on 
Thursday,  and  a few  days  after  (Nov.  20th,  1803),  he 
expired.  Mrs.  Jacobson  arrived  too  late  to  see  him  alive. 
“ My  father,”  (the  Bishop  used  to  say,)  ‘‘  was  as  much 
killed  by  Napoleon  as  if  he  had  been  shot  on  the  field  of 
battle.”^  He  died  in  the  performance  of  his  duty,  and 
with  a stern  sense  that  he  was  fulfilling  it. 

Mrs.  Jacobson,  at  the  end  of  eight  years’  widowhood, 
contracted  a second  marriage — with  a dissenter : in  con- 
sequence of  which,  little  William  was  conducted  to  ‘ Chapel,’ 
and  brought  up  in  the  ways  of  Nonconformity.  Those 
ways  proved  utterly  abhorrent  to  him  from  the  first.  He 
inherited  the  sentiment  of  loyalty  to  the  Church  of  his 
baptism  from  his  Father, — for  whose  memory  he  cherished 
through  life  (it  was  characteristic  of  him)  a most  dutiful 
reverence,  always  keeping  his  striking  miniature  in  a 
drawer  at  his  side.  “He  spoke  to  me  of  him  with 

* Archdeacon  (now  Dean)  Darby,  Dissenter,  the  Bishop  remarked  to 
— to  whom  I am  indebted  for  these  him, — “ That  is  the  way  contem- 
early  details, — relates,  that  on  see-  porary  history  is  written  ! My 
ing  a paragraph  in  ‘ the  Spectator  ’ to  father  lived  and  died  a lay  member 
the  effect  that  he  was  the  son  of  a of  the  Church  of  England.” 


240 


William  Jacobson: 


[1813 

animation  in  1882,” — writes  one  of  his  nephews,^ — “at 
my  last  visit  to  Deeside,  before  his  health  failed.”  . . . “ 1 
never  saw  my  Father,”  (he  remarked  to  Dean  Howson). 
“ I lost  him  when  I was  only  four  months  old.  But  when 
I found  that  he  used  to  write  his  name  with  a capital  B 
in  the  middle  of  it,  I adopted  the  same  practice.”  It  was 
the  only  outward  and  visible  thing  in  which  he  could 
imitate  his  father,  whom  he  reverenced  so  greatly,  and  to 
whom  he  yearned  with  all  the  dutifulness  of  his  nature. 
Those  who  attributed  his  practice  in  this  respect  to  whim 
or  caprice,  knew  nothing  of  the  man. 

His  step-father  placed  him,  while  yet  a little  child, 
under  the  tuition  of  the  Bev.  William  Walford,  minister 
of  the  New  Meeting,  Great  Yarmouth, — a man  of  ability 
and  learning.  I presume  it  was  on  Mr.  Walford’s  re- 
moval to  Homerton  College  (about  the  end  of  the  year 
1 813),  that  William  Jacobson  “was  transferred  as  a boarder 
to  a private  school  kept  by  Mr.  J.  S.  Brewer,  (father  of 
the  late  Professor  J.  S.  Brewer),  in  Calvert  Street, 
Norwich.” 

“ During  his  stay  there  ” (writes  a correspondent  of  the 
‘ Guardian  ’ “ we  inhabited  the  same  dormitory.  Pro- 

fessor Brewer  was  at  school  with  him : I believe  they 
were  always  friendly.  Jacobson  was  considered  at  the 
Calvert  Street  School,  a clever  and  promising  boy.  One 
of  Mr.  Brewer’s  daughters  told  me  that  after  attaining 
distinction  at  Oxford,  he  paid  a visit  to  his  old  master, 
who  had  then  removed  to  Eaton,  near  Norwich.” 

Thus  grounded  in  the  rudiments  of  scholarship,  at  the 
age  of  sixteen  William  Jacobson  was  sent  to  the  Non- 
conformist College  at  Homerton,  in  Middlesex,^ — it  is 

^ Francis  Turner  Palgrave,  esq.  the  Nonconformist  Colleges  in  Lon- 
® Mr.  Jas.  C.  Barnham, — Aug.  7,  don  (of  which  Homerton  was  one) 
1884.  were  amalgamated  in  ‘New  Col- 

*■  Thirty-seven  years  ago,  four  of  lege/  S.  J ohn’s  W ood,  N. W. 


241 


i82i]  The  Single-minded  Blshop. 

believed  in  the  October  of  1819.  The  College  was  at  that 
time  under  the  principalship  of  the  learned  and  excellent 
Dr.  Pye  Smith.  “Dissenter  as  he  was,”  (writes  Canon 
Hopwood,^)  “a  man  might  be  thankful  to  have  been 
under  Pye  Smith.  I remember,  when  I was  preparing 
for  Orders  under  Mr.  Slade  of  Bolton  in  this  county,  one 
of  the  books  he  desired  me  to  read  and  digest  was  Pye 
Smith’s  ‘ Scripture  Tedimony  to  the  Messiah'  ” At  Homer- 
ton  he  again  became  the  pupil  of  his  former  instructor, 
the  Kev.  W.  Walford,  who  was  now  Classical  and  Kesi- 
dent  Tutor  of  the  College,  and  who  speaks  of  him  as  “ a 
very  amiable  and  intelligent  youth.”  ® Here  he  re- 
mained for  two  years : by  which  time,  the  bent  of  his 
disposition  and  the  excellence  of  his  abilities  became  so 
conspicuous,  that  the  learned  Principal  strongly  recom- 
mended the  youth  to  go  up  to  Oxford.  I suspect  that  a 
formidable  financial  obstacle  stood  in  the  way  of  effect 
being  given  to  this  project.  But  he  went  from  Homer- 
ton  to  Glasgow  University,  where  at  that  time  Sir 
Daniel  K.  Sandford  was  professor  of  Greek.  Jacobson’s 
name  occurs  among  the  students  in  the  Greek  Class  in 
the  College  session  1822-23:  but  in  no  other  year  or 
class.  Here  he  made  excellent  progress, — carrying  off 
many  of  the  prizes.  Very  gratefully  used  he  to  relate 
how,  throughout  his  period  of  residence  at  Glasgow,  Mrs. 
Sterling,  (a  name  which  requires  no  comment  of  mine,) 
“ was  a Mother  ” to  him. 


Now  at  last,  (namely,  in  1823,  being  in  his  20th  year,) 
he  was  enabled  to  follow  Pye  Smith’s  advice  and  his 


® Letter  to  myself, — Winwick, 
31st  July,  1884. 

® From  the  ^Autobiography  of 
Bev.  W.  Walford,^ — (1851),  p.  161  : 
— ^ A short  Biography  of  Eobert 
Halley,  D.Df — (1879),  PP*  x-xi : 
VOL.  II. 


— and  MS.  letter  of  Mr.  W. 
Farrer  (Secretary)  to  the  Lev.  Dr. 
Newth,  Principal  of  New  College. 
The  last  named  gentleman  has 
kindly  supplied  me  with  most  of 
the  details  in  the  text. 


R 


242  William  Jacobson:  1823 

own  strong  inclinations.  He  went  up  to  Oxford,  enter- 
ing himself  (for  economical  reasons)  at  S.  Edmund  Hall, 
then  under  the  principalship  of  Dr.  Anthony  Grayson. 
His  autograph  appears  on  the  day  of  his  admission  (3rd 
May), — ‘ Gulielmus  JacoBson':  but  he  did  not  begin  to 
reside  till  the  October  term.  Thenceforward,  his  very 
modest  ‘batells’  {e.g.  is. ‘^d.  on  Christmas  Day)  show 
that  he  was  at  the  Hall  a continuous  resident  (except 
for  a few  days  in  January)  till  the  3rd  July,  1824;  that 
is,  throughout  the  Christmas  and  Easter  vacations. 
How  self-denying  a life  he  led  there,  and  how  as- 
siduously he  applied  himself  to  the  work  of  the  place, 
no  one  who  ever  knew  William  Jacobson  will  require  to 
be  told.  A most  precious  season  truly  for  self-culture 
he  must  have  found  it.  The  blessedness  of  such  calm 
studious  days  spent  under  the  shelter  of  a College, — in 
perfect  quiet  and  without  care, — no  faithful  heart  can 
ever  forget.  But  to  have  at  last  obtained  a foothold  in 
Oxford,  was  far  more  than  this  to  the  man  of  whom  I 
am  writing.  He  had  been  disciplined  in  the  school  of 
adversity : had  known  what  it  is  to  struggle  against 
hindrances,  discouragement,  difficulties.  When  now,  at 
early  morning,  he  listened  to  the  sweet  chime  of  the 
countless  bells  of  Oxford,  and  looked  on  the  calm  um- 
brageous precinct  of  S.  Peter’ s-in-the-East,  it  must 
have  been  to  him  like  a vision  of  opening  Paradise. 

Professor  Sandford  had  furnished  him  with  an  intro- 
duction to  two  Oxford  ‘ dons.’  One  of  these  paid  no 
attention  to  the  friendless  young  man.  Not  so  the 
other.  The  hard-worked  Tutor  of  Christ  Church  was 
kind  to  him  from  the  first,  grew  interested  in  him,  and — 
“ I can  give  you  sometimes  half-an-hour’s  coaching  at 
night,  if  you  will  come  to  me  after  ten  o’clock.”  It  was 


243 


1824]  The  Sinole-minded  Bishop. 

the  beginning  of  Jacobson’s  life-long  friendship  with  the 
admirable  Charles  Thomas  Longley,  afterwards  Arch- 
bishop of  Canterbury, — a friendship  which  proved  one 
of  the  choicest  blessings  of  his  life.  His  path  was  as 
yet  sufficiently  arduous  : but  he  was  endowed  with  ex- 
cellent abilities,  a resolute  will,  great  strength  and 
steadfastness  of  purpose.  Fired  also  he  was  by  a holy 
ambition,  and  animated  by  the  loftiest  principle.  Such 
a youth  is  sure  to  succeed  in  a place  like  Oxford. 

In  the  second  year  of  his  undergraduateship  (18:^4) 
being  requested  by  a college  acquaintance,  the  scion  of 
an  ancient  Devonshire  family, — (George,  eldest  son  of 
George  Sydenham  Fursdon,  esq.  of  Fursdon), — to  become 
his  tutor,  Jacobson  found  himself  in  due  course  invited 
down  to  the  family  seat  in  Devonshire ; where  a warm 
friendship  sprang  up  between  him  and  his  pupil’s 
father.  This  gentleman,  who  was  a person  of  fine  under- 
standing and  cultivated  taste,  found  in  the  Oxford 
undergraduate  a thoroughly  congenial  companion.  He 
delighted  much  in  the  youth’s  society : persuaded  him, 
when  the  tutorial  engagement  was  ended,  often  to  re- 
peat his  visit : offered  him  more  than  words  of  kindness 
and  encouragement ; and  corresponded  with  him  for 
many  years  (1824-1835).  It  is  remembered  that  after 
the  first  evening,  one  of  the  party  remarked  of  their 
new  guest, — “ That  man  will  become  a Bishop.”  In  a 
wood  near  the  house,  Jacobson  is  known  to  have  en- 
graved with  his  knife  on  the  bark  of  a large  beech  tree, 
Homer’s  line, — 0177  irep  (pvXkoiiv  yeveri,  roLribe  Kal  avbp^v. 
Those  beautiful  Greek  characters  are  still  distinguish- 
able, and  are  cherished  by  the  family  to  this  hour  as  a 
memorial  of  the  loved  and  attached  friend  of  other  days.*^ 

’ From  the  Kev.  Edward  Fursdon, — October  1887. 


244  William  Jacobsoi^:  [1825 

He  was  again  resident  at  S.  Edmund  Hall  from 
January  8th,  1825,  till  May  6th, — having  been  elected 
on  the  5th  to  a scholarship  at  Lincoln  College.  Not- 
withstanding the  timely  helps  thus  afforded  him,  this 
period  of  Jacobson’s  life  was  one  of  considerable 
anxiety.  The  strictest  economy  and  severest  self- 

denial,  unaided,  will  not  discharge  an  undergraduate’s 
college  bills.  He  was  in  the  meantime  working  to  the 
utmost  of  his  power,  and  beyond  his  strength.  “ You 
will  imagine”  (he  wrote  to  his  friend  Mr.  Fursdon)  “that 
I shall  have  all  the  advantage  which  ‘ cramming  ’ can 
give  a man,  when  I tell  you  that, 

“I  go  to  Mr.  Longley  for  nearly  two  hours  once  a 
week ; — to  a friend  at  Jesus  (who  was  in  the  first  Class 
last  Michaelmas)  every  day; — and  to  another  at  Pem- 
broke who  is  reading  with  Cramer,  and  goes  up  with  me, 
most  probably  on  the  very  same  day, — viz.  Jeune. 

“ Mr.  Longley  has  examined  me  throughout  my  Aristo- 
phanes, and  says  that  I may  safely  lay  that  by,  for  it  is 
quite  in  my  favour.  I now  take  Thucydides, — put  my 
difficulties,  and  construe  the  hardest  parts  which  he 
selects.  With  Evans  and  Jeune,  I work  Aristotle  ; and 
with  the  latter,  Latin  and  Greek  composition.  Thus  you 
see  I am  pretty  well  occupied ; and  when  I tell  you  that 
I am  looked  on  in  College  as  a sort  of  oracle  in  the  way 
of  Divinity,  you  will  consider  my  hands  pretty  well 
filled. 

“ It  will  give  you  some  notion  of  the  state  to  which  I 
am  reduced  if  I tell  you  that  the  other  morning  I was 
roused  by  a man  who  wanted  Moloch  and  his  worship  ex- 
plained ; and  had  scarcely  recomposed  myself  for  another 
nap,  when  a man  came  to  dun  me  for  all  that  I could  tell 
him  about  the  Shechinah.  You  may  guess  that  I thought 
it  high  time  to  rise  at  once.’^ 

At  the  ensuing  Easter  (1827),  after  which  he  was  to 

® From  ^Lincoln  Coll., — Nov.  i8,  1826.’ 


1827]  The  Sinole-minded  Bishop.  245 

have  gone  into  the  Schools,  Jacobson  had  a sharp  fit  of 
illness.  He  shall  tell  the  tale  himself: — 

“ I was  doing  very  well,  as  I thought,  and  making  fair  use 
of  the  Easter  vacation ; but  sitting  in  a very  complicated 
draught  gave  me  rheumatick  face-ache.  Then,  I had 
toothache  simple.  Then,  a sort  of  bastard  quinsey. 
Finally,  a large  sulky  abscess  which,  after  wearing  me 
almost  to  a shadow,  broke  last  evening.  I am  not  yet 
emancipated  from  poultices,  and  shall  be  long  before 
I resume  the  enjoyment  of  solids  ; but  my  name  is  put  at 
the  end  of  the  list,  and  I shall  make  fight  for  my  degree 
and  any  thing  that  chooses  to  come  with  it, — although 
for  the  last  fortnight  I have  had  my  neck  swaddled  in 
linseed,  and  done  nothing  but  sputter  and  groan  inces- 
santly all  day.  The  horrors  of  my  nights  were  worse, 
for  I never  slept.  My  confinement  was  cheered  by  the 
extreme  kindness  of  friends  of  all  orders  and  degrees. 
They  came  constantly,  in  gowns  of  all  dimensions  and 
descriptions  : Mr.  Longley  in  the  pride  of  his  velvet, 
and  the  Rev.  Charles  Rose,  who  struck  my  poor  little 
landlady  with  such  awe,  that  I had  a difiiculty  in  getting 
her  to  show  herself  again  after  his  first  call.”  ^ 

The  sequel  was  disappointing,  but  might  have  been 
attended  by  a more  calamitous  result  than  a place  in  the 
Second  Class : — 

“ I was  in  the  Schools  the  last  four  days  of  last  week. 
My  viva  voce  came  on  Saturday.  Having  never  sate  up 
for  above  an  hour  together  without  lying  down,  till  I 
found  myself  in  the  Schools,  the  writing  for  about  seven 
hours  the  three  preceding  days  had  so  worn  me  out, 
that  I went  into  hysterics  in  the  middle  of  my  Rhetorick. 
I have  heard  since  that  the  placing  my  name  cost  the 
Examiners  no  little  discussion,  and  that  all  my  papers, 
&c.  were  quite  up  to  the  mark  for  the  First  Class.  It 
was  my  Aristotle  which  pulled  me  down.  However, 
after  all  my  illness,  and  not  seeing  any  of  my  books 
hardly  for  six  weeks,  I am  very  thankful  to  have  done 

® Line.  Coll., — May  i8,  1827. 


246 


William  Jacobson: 


[1827 

so  well. — One  of  my  Examiners  has  told  me  that  I am 
to  dine  with  him  as  soon  as  B.A.  sleeves  shall  make  me 
admissible  to  the  high  table  at  Balliol ; and  I had  my 
fill  of  compliments  for  my  History  and  Poets.  After  all, 
I suppose  no  fine  showy  book  ever  went  out  in  smoke 
like  my  eight  plays  of  Aristophanes.  Dornford  did 
indeed  pay  me  the  compliment  of  putting  me  on  twice  ; 
but  neither  passage  admitted  of  any  thing  like  display. 
I was  only  enabled  to  struggle  through  Saturday  by 
being  twice  drenched  with  sether  . . . The  reaction  on 
Sunday  was  dreadful.  The  Exeter  examination  begins 
on  Wednesday  the  20th.”  ^ 

That  one  so  heavily  ‘ weighted  ’ would  be  unsuccessful 
in  competing  for  the  Exeter  Fellowship,  might  have  been 
foreseen.  But  Jacobson  had  reasonably  hoped  for  a 
First  Class  in  Literis  humanioribus^ — (to  which  Francis 
Jeune,  Herman  Merivale  and  William  Sewell  now  found 
themselves  promoted,) — and  his  friends  had  confidently 
expected  it.  The  Class  List  is  probably  as  fair  a test  as 
the  wit  of  man  could  devise  ; but  it  is  certainly  sometimes 
a fallacious  one.  Jacobson  at  once  took  his  B.A.  degree, 
and  accepted  the  office  of  tutor  to  the  two  sons,  (Charles 
and  Francis,)  of  an  excellent  Irish  gentleman,  Mr.  Peter 
La  Touche,  nephew  to  Mr.  La  Touche,  of  Bellevue,  in 
county  Wicklow. 

“ The  country  here,”  (he  wrote  to  his  friend,  Mr. 
Eursdon),  “is  extremely  beautiful:  in  fact  it  presents, 
I think,  a most  delicious  compound  of  Devonshire  and 
the  Western  Highlands.  The  Mountains  indeed  are  not 
very  high,  but  they  are  picturesque  in  the  extreme, — 
‘great  Sugar-Loaf’  indeed  has  some  pretensions,  and  I envy 
those  who  saw  him  last  summer  when  the  peat  on  one 
entire  side  was  in  a blaze.  We  are  rusticating  in  the 
very  first  style  of  the  art.  ‘ The  Cottage,’  by  some 
admirable  management,  holds,  along  with  its  morsel  of 
a lodge,  Mrs.  La  Touche,  nine  of  the  children,  a French 

1 To  G.  S.  Fursdon,  esq., — from  Lincoln  Coll.,  June  12th,  1827. 


1827]  The  Single-minded  Bishop.  247 

and  an  English  Governess,  with  no  end  of  servants  of  all 
sexes  and  ages.  My  three  pupils  and  I expatiate  in 
a strange  place  adjoining  the  Rectory,  (which  is  called 
‘ the  Glebe  House.’)  It  has  only  one  room  on  a floor, 
like  the  abode  of  Dumbiedikes.  Here  we  read  and 
sleep.  (The  boys  call  it  ‘ the  Mansion.’)  We  are  fed  at 
‘ the  Cottage,’  which  is  a very  pretty  place,  and  im- 
mediately adjoins  the  Church, — a very  respectable  ediflce 
with  a Gothic  tower,  built  by  this  family  a generation  or 
two  back.  The  muniflcence  is  merely  commemorated 
by  their  arms  being  on  the  Tower,  with  the  date  beneath, 
and, — ‘ Out  of  Thine  ow?i  do  I give  unto  Thee,  0 my  God.' 
The  morning  congregation  was  a very  good  one  last 
Sunday;  and  so  large  a proportion  of  it  consisted  of  the 
lower  orders,  that  I could  not  help  thinking  how  your 
heart  would  have  leapt  at  the  sight.  They  have  a 
weekly  collection  during  the  Psalm  before  Sermon, 
which  is  the  substitute  for  Poors’  rates  ...  At  one  thing 

I am  not  a little  amazed, — the  perverse  arrangement  of 
having  the  Morning  Service  at  12,  and  the  Evening 
at  half-past-six  o’clock.  Close  by  us  is  ‘ Belle-vue,’  a 
seat  of  an  elder  branch  of  the  La  Touches,  which  well 
deserves  its  name.  The  house,  garden,  and  grounds  all 
have  my  unqualified  admiration.  The  glass-houses  for 
plants  form  quite  a little  village  .... 

“ I was  put  at  my  ease  the  instant  I arrived  here, 
and  I trust  I am  properly  thankful  to  the  kindness 
of  Providence  in  awarding  me  so  comfortable  a provision 
for  the  present.  My  pupils  are  Charles, — 12  years  old 
last  Christmas,  quick  and  eager  to  learn: — Frank, — 

I I years,  very  fidgetty.  This  latter  gentleman  is  ham- 
mering away  at  the  ‘ Delectus.'  Charles  has  begun 
Greek,  and  reads  Cornelius  Nepos.  They  are  both 
suffering  from  an  unqualified  holiday  of  two  months. 
William,  who  is  to  keep  terms  at  Dublin,  I have  not  yet 
seen.  He  is  not  to  reside  in  the  College.  Mrs.  La 
Touche’s  horror  of  the  ingenuous  youth  of  Trinity  College 
is  at  least  equal  to  yours.”  ^ 

^ The  writer’s  address  was — Cottage,  Delgany,  Ireland,’ — Aug. 

^ Peter  La  Touche’s,  esq.,jun.,  The  ist,  1827. 


248 


William  Jacobson : 


[1827 

The  year  which  he  spent  with  that  family  at  Delgany 
Cottage  he  ever  after  recalled  in  grateful  and  affectionate 
terms.  He  owed  the  introduction  to  his  friend  Longley. 
Alexander  Knox,  in  a letter  of  that  date,  refers  to  Bishop 
Jacobson,  then  but  four-and- twenty,  as  “ a very  remark- 
able young  man,  distinguished  as  having  just  gained  a 
prize  at  Oxford,  and  with  a singular  appreciation  of 
Theological  science.”  To  Bishop  Jebb,  on  Christmas  Day 
1827,  Knox  wrote  as  follows  : — 

“ There  is  a very  sensible  young  gentleman  at  present 
in  this  house.  He  is  a Mr.  Jacobson,  a B.A.  of  Lincoln. 
In  one  of  his  first  conversations  with  me,  he  asked  me  if 
I knew  the  ^ Apj^endioo'  to  your  Sermons;  pronouncing 
upon  it  at  the  same  time,  as  intelligent  an  eulogium  as 
I had  perhaps  heard  from  any  one.  I have  got  my 

friend  K to  lend  him  your  ‘ Sacred  Literature^  which 

he  had  heard  of,  and  desired  to  read.  He  is  now  reading 
it,  and  speaks  of  it  in  very  high  terms.  I mention  all 
this,  to  submit  to  you  a thought  of  his,  namely,  that  it 
were  desirable  the  ‘ Appendix  ’ should  be  published  in  a 
small  volume  by  itself,  in  order  to  give  it  the  widest 
possible  circulation, — which  he  considers  the  present 
time  renders  expedient : the  Truth,  which  he  thinks 
therein  irrefragably  established,  being  the  specific  anti- 
dote to  the  loose  opinions  and  tendencies  of  so  many 
soi-disant  churchmen  of  the  present  day. 

“ Through  the  same  young  gentleman,  I have  become 
acquainted  with  a volume  of  Sermons,  published  at 
Oxford  (where  they  were  preached)  by  a Dr.  Shuttleworth. 
Mr.  Jacobson  has  read  three  of  them  to  me.”  ^ 

Long  after.  Bishop  Jacobson  was  known  frequently  to 
recur  to  his  conversations  with  Alexander  Knox,  (who 
lived  at  Bellevue,)  as  having  been  singularly  productive 

® ‘ Thirty  years'  Correspondence  I am  indebted  to  the  Rev.  J ames 
between  Bp.  (Jebh)  of  Limerick,  Carson,  curate  of  Winwick,  New- 
and  A.  Knox'  (1834)  :—ii.  561. — tonde- Willows.  By  the  way,  why 
For  this,  and  much  other  help,  is  no  Memoir  of  Knox  extant  ? 


1829]  The  Single-minded  Bishop.  249 

of  fruit  to  himself.  Knox  must  have  been  an  admir- 
able person  certainly.  His  three  volumes  of  ^Remains'' 
occupied  a conspicuous  place  in  Jacobson’s  library,  and 
were  often  taken  down  from  his  shelf  in  illustration  of 
something  in  his  lectures.  At  the  end  of  55  years  (in 
conversation  with  Archdeacon  [now  Dean]  Darby,  his 
examining  Chaplain,)  the  Bishop  expressed  his  deep 
regret  that  he  had  not  corresponded  with  Alexander 
Knox, — as  Knox  suggested  he  should  do  on  his  return 
to  Oxford : “ adding  with  much  fervour, — ‘ Indeed  if  by 
God’s  mercy  I am  admitted  to  Paradise,  I shall  be 
ashamed  to  meet  Knox.’  . . . The  way  in  which  he  spoke 
carried  with  it  the  truest  expression  of  regret,  humility, 
and  faith.  The  sentence  placed  before  my  mind  in  the 
strongest  light  the  unclouded  and  certain  hope  of  inter- 
course in  the  unseen  World.”  ^ — It  should  be  added  that 
Alexander  Knox  died  in  1831.  To  proceed  however. 

On  returning  to  Oxford  in  1829,  again  sat  for  an 
Exeter  Fellowship,  and  this  time  (June  30th)  was  suc- 
cessful. His  singularly  accurate  and  tasteful,  if  not 
brilliant  scholarship,  well  merited  success.  But  William 
Jacobson  possessed  besides,  and  in  a very  eminent  degree, 
the  qualifications — moral  and  intellectual — which  fit  a 
man  to  hold  a College  fellowship  with  advantage  to  the 
society  and  to  himself.  “ It  was  wy  casting  vote  ” (writes 
an  old  friend  of  his  (and  of  mine),  the  late  Rev.  J.  C. 
Clutterbuck, ^ Vicar  of  Long  Wittenham,)  “that  brought 
him  from  Lincoln  to  Exeter : — 

“ As  the  only  fellow  with  whom  he  was  personally  ac- 
quainted, I was  deputed  to  announce  to  him  his  success. 

* From  a letter  to  myself, — July  now  (Feb.  1888)  learned  from  one 
31st,  1884.  [After  taking  extraor-  of  the  family  that  it  was  ‘probably 
dinary  pains  to  ascertain  the  exact  in  1757.’] 

date  of  A.  K.’s  birth,  I have  only  ® Letter  to  myself, — 5 Aug.  1884. 


250  William  Jacobson:  [1829 

I found  the  scholar  of  Lincoln  in  his  bed-room  shaving ; 
and  had  some  difficulty  in  convincing  him  that  I was  in 
earnest,  when  I urged  him  to  hasten  his  toilette  and  come 
with  all  speed  to  the  Chapel  of  Exeter  College, — where 
the  Eector  and  Fellows  were  assembled,  waiting  to 
admit  him.” 

\ 

It  was  indeed  a joyous  surprise.  Writing  next  day  to 
his  friend  Mr.  Fursdon,  because  he  ‘knew  of  no  one  on 
whose  hearty  congratulations  he  might  more  securely 
reckon,’ — 

“ I am  so  happy  ” (he  said)  “ that  I have  scarcely  known 
how  to  behave  since  the  event.  The  great  object  of  all 
my  hopes,  domestication  in  Oxford,  has  come  at  last, 
under  circumstances  of  which  I could  never  have  dared 
to  dream,  and  the  cordiality  of  congratulation  is  great 
indeed.” 

In  the  letter  already  quoted,  Mr.  Clutterbuck  proceeds, 
— “ When,  at  the  end  of  54  years,  (namely  in  November 
1883,)  I visited  William  Jacobson  in  his  Episcopal  palace, 
he  remarked  to  me  with  infinite  kindness  of  manner, — 
‘Never  shall  I forget  your  look  of  recognition  as  I 
entered  the  Chapel,  when  I was  elected  Fellow  of  Exeter.’  ” 
The  men’s  ages  were  now  respectively  81  and  80.  So 
indelibly  do  such  incidents  of  the  early  life  impress 
themselves  on  the  Academic  memory!  But  Jacobson 
was  of  a singularly  faithful,  grateful,  constant  disposition. 
. . . Shortly  before  he  died,  on  being  asked  by  Canon 
Gray  “ Which  of  his  Colleges,  (S.  Edmund  Hall,  Lincoln, 
Exeter,  Magdalen  Hall,  Christ  Church),  he  regarded  as 
specially  his  own  ? ” — Jacobson  made  the  characteristic 
reply, — “I  was  very  happy  on  the  day  when  I was 
elected  a Fellow  of  Exeter.” 

The  Exeter  Fellowship  did  not  however  at  once  relieve 


1829]  The  Single-minded  Bishop.  251 

him  from  the  sense  of  pecuniary  anxiety.  He  wrote  to 
his  friend  Mr.  Fursdon, — 

“ I shall  have  no  income  from  the  College  for  the  first 
year : and  I have  not  yet  recovered  the  effects  of  being 
left  to  struggle  through  the  last  year  and-a-half  of  my 
undergraduateship  as  I could.  So  that  I am  not  altogether 
free  from  apprehension  for  my  first  year.  I have  how- 
ever so  much  to  be  thankful  for,  that  I do  my  best  to 
think  little  of  contingent  difficulties.”  ^ 

Jacobson  now  took  his  M.A.  degree,  and  resumed  for 
the  moment  his  engagement  with  the  La  Touche  family ; 
having  already,  (in  1829,)  gained  the  Ellerton  Theological 
prize.  The  subject  of  his  essay  was — ^ The  causes  of  the 
persecution  to  which  the  Christians  were  subject  in  the  first 
centuries  of  Christianity^  In  order  to  recite  that  com- 
position in  the  Divinity  School,  he  had  been  obliged,  in 
fact,  to  defer  the  work  of  his  second  day’s  examination 
at  Exeter  (June  23rd).  Writing  for  this  prize  at  Dublin, 
aided  by  the  resources  of  Trinity  College  library,  he 
remarks  to  the  same  friend, — 

“ Whether  I succeed  or  not,  I owe  the  venerable  tutor 
of  Magdalen  much : for  he  has  been  the  means  of  in- 
troducing me  to  the  writers  of  the  first  three  centuries ; 
and  between  reading  two  or  three  of  them,  and  index- 
hunting them  all,  I have  acquired  a valualDle  stock  of 
knowledge  with  which  I shall  be  well  contented.”  ^ 

In  those  few  words  Jacobson  has  faithfully  stated  the 
true  benefit  and  peculiar  value  of  such  “ Prizes.”  They 
furnish  occasions  for  learned  research:  set  more  than 
one  intelligent  youth  on  a resolute  course  of  laborious 
inquiry  which  would  never  else  have  been  enterprised : 
and  the  impulse  so  given,  not  unfrequently,  is  known  to 

® Treborth,  Bangor, — Sept.  7th,  ’ 5 Fitzwilliam  Square^  Dublin, 
1829.  — March  5th,  1829. 


252  William  Jacobson:  [1830 

last  on  to  the  end  of  life.  In  Jacobson’s  case,  however, 
as  the  reader  is  aware,  this  was  not  by  any  means  the 
man’s  earliest  introduction  to  such  studies.  He  had 
been  all  along  an  assiduous  and  thoughtful  student  in 
Divinity:  had  given  his  heart  to  that  grandest  of  pur- 
suits from  the  first ; and  had  found  out  that  it  is  the 
only  one  capable  of  satisfying  the  highest  cravings, — 
moral,  intellectual,  spiritual, — of  an  immortal  being. 
Ordained  Deacon  in  1830  (June  6th),  Jacobson  at  once 
accepted  a curacy  under  Archdeacon  Clerke,  who  was  at 
that  time  vicar  of  S.  Mary  Magdalene’s  in  Oxford.  But 
his  first  essay  in  the  Ministry  was  at  Long  Wittenham 
in  Berkshire,  during  the  summer  Vacation  of  1830; 
where  he  gained  the  good  will  of  all  by  his  unremitting 
exertions,  and  especially  by  his  generosity  to  the  sick 
poor.  There  it  was  that  he  preached  his  first  sermon. 
In  October  he  returned  to  Oxford,  and  entered  on  his 
duties  under  Archd.  Clerke.  He  was  ordained  Priest  in 
1831.  In  the  ensuing  year  (1832)  he  was  offered  the 
Vice-Principalship  of  Magdalen  Hall, — which  some  may 
require  to  be  informed  is  now  (through  the  munificence 
of  a merchant-Prince)  ‘Hertford  College.’  But  before 
proceeding  further  with  the  story  of  Jacobson’s  Oxford 
life,  our  attention  is  invited  in  another  direction. 

The  Regius  Professor  of  Divinity  at  the  period  we 
speak  of  [1829-36]  was  Dr.  Edward  Burton, — an  ac- 
complished and  amiable  scholar  as  well  as  a learned 
and  judicious  Divine:  ^ vir  si  quis  alius  de  bonis  Uteris^ 
de  Academia  nostra^  de  Ecclesid  Anglicand  optime  meritus' 
Between  him  and  Jacobson  (whose  words  those  are) 
there  existed  a warm  friendship.  ‘ Cujus  et  memoriae 
dulcedine’  (he  proceeds)  ^ et  desiderii  acerhitate  imbutus 
esse  animus  mens  nunquam  desinetl  I quote  from  the 


1832]  The  Single-minded  Bishop. 


253 


‘ Monitum  ’ prefixed  to  the  2nd  edition  of  his  ‘ Tatres 
Apostolici,^ — a work  undertaken  at  Dr.  Burton’s  sug- 
gestion. The  learned  are  aware  of  the  scantiness  of 
manuscript  authority  under  which  the  text  pf  Clemens 
Eomanus,  Ignatius  and  Polycarp  labours : in  order  how- 
ever to  collate  those  MSS.,  such  as  they  are,  Jacobson 
availed  himself  of  several  Long  Vacations  to  visit  the 
libraries  of  Florence,  Borne,  Paris,  Vienna.  It  was, 
I believe,  in  the  July  of  1832,  that  he  first  set  out, — 
taking  the  Bhine,  Switzerland,  Milan,  Verona,  Venice, 
Ferrara,  Bologna  on  his  way.  “At  Florence”  (he  tells 
his  friend  Mr.  Fursdon)  “I  remained  3 weeks,  leading  a 
very  methodical  and  joyous  life : 3 hours  every  day  over 
a MS.  in  the  Laurentian  library,  and  2 in  the  Gallery 
and  among  the  pictures  of  the  Pitti  palace  alternately. 
I spent  two  evenings  on  ‘the  top  of  Fiesole,’  enjoying 
the  Val  d’Arno  and  an  Italian  twilight.” 

“ My  work  at  Florence  was  easier  than  I expected,  and 
having  a fragment  of  Poly  carp  in  the  Vatican  to  salve 
my  conscience  with,  I proceeded  with  the  courier  through 
Sienna  and  Bolsena  to  Borne.  Here  I spent  10  entire 
days ; moving  about  most  assiduously  while  daylight 
lasted,  and  studying  the  antiquities  in  books,  every 
evening.  I never  enjoyed  any  fraction  of  my  existence 
half  so  much.  An  American  Episcopalian  Divine,  a 
naval  officer  deep  in  Oriental  Studies,  and  an  old  fellow 
from  the  banks  of  the  Tigris,  who  wore  a dress  of  purple 
and  a beard  down  to  his  waist,  conspired  in  giving  me 
the  most  fearful  accounts  of  Angelo  Mai’s  jealousy  and 
uncourteousness ; besides  assuring  me  that  he  was  absent 
from  Borne,  and  the  Library  closed.  Now,  the  fact  was 
that  he  was  on  the  spot,  and  extremely  civil  and  good 
humoured.  Jesuit,  Canon  of  S.  Peter’s,  and  really 
eminent  in  the  literary  world  as  he  is,  he  behaved  far 
better  than,  I fear,  the  Dons  of  our  English  Libraries — 
(e. g.  he  who  took  objection  to  ‘JacoBson’s  ladies’) 


William  Jacobson: 


254 


[1832 


— would,  to  a foreigner  who  spoke  the  language  so  *vilely, 
and  wore  such  ‘ a shocking  bad  hat  ’ as  I did. 

“ I cannot  tell  you  how  I enjoyed  S.  Peter’s : its 
amazing  size  lost  in  the  perfection  of  its  proportions ; its 
profuse  and  elaborate  ornament  blending  into  uniform 
and  majestic  beauty.  I spent  many  a rapt  hour  there, 
and  saw  it,  from  the  subterranean  Church  where  you 
tread  on  pavement  laid  down  by  Constantine,  to  the  ball 
which  crowns  the  Cupola  ; — the  ascent  wonderfully  easy ; 
— the  views  beautiful, — Soracte, — Praeneste, — mountains 
studded  with  Frascati,  Albano,  &c.,  and  the  Mediter- 
ranean in  the  distance.” 

“ I hope  to  be  in  Oxford,” — (so  ends  the  letter,  which 
is  dated  ‘ Turin,  Oct.  2nd,  1832,’) — “ by  the  13th,  and  am 
not  at  all  easy  about  the  duties  of  my  new  station ; 
being  deeply  impressed  with  the  ‘ collective  wisdom  of 
ages  ’ embodied  in  the  Yankee  adage, — ‘ The  higher  a 
monkey  climbs,  the  more  he  shows  his  tail.’  My  best 
compliments  to  the  Ladies.”  ^ 


The  elevated  position  thus  picturesquely  anticipated 
was  the  Vice-Principalship  of  Magdalen  Hall,  already 
mentioned;  on  the  active  duties  of  which  Jacobson  was 
about  to  enter.  With  characteristic  conscientiousness  he 
had  stipulated  with  the  excellent  Principal,  Dr.  Mac- 
bride,  that  he  should  be  allowed  to  rescue  the  Hall  from 
its  ancient  evil  repute  of  being  a refuge  for  the  idle  and 
incompetent.  Accordingly,  he  at  once  set  about  doing 
his  very  best  for  every  man  who  came  to  the  Hall.  This 
proved  a most  laborious  work.  But  his  lectures  were 
highly  popular  with  the  cleverer  sort : while  the  dull 
and  backward  found  as  much  pains  taken  with  their 
wretched  exercises  as  if  the  fortunes  of  the  place  de- 
pended wholly  on  them.  I have  heard  his  Aristophanes 
lecture  especially  vaunted  as  a masterpiece  of  wit  and 

® To  G.  S.  Fursdon,  esq.,  Fursdon,  Collumpton,  Devon. 


1833]  The  Single-minded  Bishop,  255 

learning.  But  let  an  old  and  honoured  member  of  the 
Hall  be  invited  to  give  us  his  own  personal  recollections 
of  those  days  : — 

“ Jacobson  came  more  nearly  than  any  one  else  with 
whom  I have  been  associated,  up  to  my  ideal  standard 
of  what  a College  ‘ Tutor  ’ ought  to  be.  He  was  a good 
Lecturer  too.  The  classical  scholars  invariably  acknow- 
ledged the  obligation  they  were  under  to  him  for  such 
successes  as  they  gained  ; while  to  the  pass-men  he  was 
invaluable.  He  could  in  a very  short  time  impart  to 
one  who  had  never  grasped  it  before,  an  appreciation  of 
the  structure  of  Latin  sentences.  By  his  own  preciseness 
in  the  use  of  the  English  vocabulary  and  strict  incisive 
criticism,  he  managed  to  elicit  fairly  good  translations  of 
Greek  and  Latin  authors  from  pupils  of  very  ordinary 
ability.  He  could  also  handle  a class,  including  men  of 
the  less  industrious  sort,  with  great  skill  and  tact, — 
securing  attention  all  round.  The  idler  was  sure  to  find 
himself  unexpectedly  ‘dropped  upon.’  When  unable 
to  answer  a question,  if  not  an  old  offender,  he  was 
rebuked  by  a good-natured  sarcasm,  often  sufficiently 
humorous  to  elicit  a laugh  at  his  expense  from  all  the 
rest.  But  an  incorrigible  would  complain  that  Jacob- 
son had  ‘ come  down  on  him  like  a thousand  of  bricks.’ 
He  was  prompt  and  punctual  in  every  thing  himself, 
and  he  expected  others  to  be  the  same. 

“As  soon  as  a class  had  assembled  for  lecture,  he 
glanced  round  the  room,  and  if  any  one  was  absent, 
(which  was  not  often  the  case,  for  we  all  knew  his 
rules,)  he  rang  his  bell  for  the  servant  at  once : — ‘ Tell 
Mr.  so-and-so  he  ought  to  be  here."*  It  was  the  same 
with  Chapel.  You  might  miss  once  in  a week,  but  not 
oftener.  The  second  time,  you  were  sent  for  and  told  that 
it  must  not  happen  again  ; and  you  knew  that  it  must  not. 
Offences  were  not  allowed  to  accumulate.  Every  thing 
was  dealt  with  immediately.  But  with  all  his  strictness 
there  was  no  hard  or  dry  austerity.  Every  rebuke 
which  he  administered  was  just,  and  all  he  said  came  as 
from  a friend, — almost  as  from  a father. 


256 


William  Jacobson: 


[183s 

“ Jacobson’s  great  success  however  as  a Tutor,  and  that 
which  secured  him  more  than  popularity, — the  love  of  all 
who  were  under  him, — consisted  in  the  systematic  and 
persistent  efforts  which  he  made  to  improve  and  to 
benefit  every  one  who  came  under  him.  He  closely 
observed  the  habits  of  each  new  comer : seemed  to  form 
an  intuitive  estimate  of  a young  man’s  character ; and 
at  once  by  some  overt  act  made  him  feel  he  was  his  friend. 
All  confessed  his  kindly  influence  throughout  their 
undergraduate  career ; and  few  failed  to  experience  some 
attention  from  him  afterwards, — as  the  offer  of  a desirable 
Curacy  or  Tutorship,  or  an  introduction  to  a friend  who 
might  be  useful  to  him.  I once  heard  a man  say,  after 
some  conference  of  a personal  character, — ‘I  believe 
Jacobson  knows  more  about  me  than  I know  of  myself ; ’ 
and  I am  sure  there  was  no  member  of  the  Hall  needing 
counsel  or  advice,  who  would  not  in  the  first  instance 
have  applied  to  the  Vice-Principal. 

“A  characteristic  anecdote  will  best  show  how  he 
would  sometimes  combine  pleasantry  with  discipline. 
An  undergraduate,  who  wanted  to  go  hunting  on  a 
certain  morning,  not  feeling  by  any  means  sure  that  the 
Vice-Principal  would  excuse  him  from  his  lectures  on 
that  ground,  sent  in  an  ‘ ceger!  Soon  after  the  clock  had 
struck,  taking  it  for  granted  that  Jacobson  must  be 
safely  ensconced  with  his  first  class,  down  he  came  in 
‘ pink  and  tops,’  and  stood  about  the  Lodge  waiting  for 
his  horse.  It  happened  however  that  the  Vice-Principal, 
after  setting  his  class  to  work,  had  gone  across  to  his 
house  to  fetch  a book ; and,  returning,  encountered  the 
sick  man,  booted  and  spurred.  ‘ Good  morning,  I am 
glad  to  see  you  are  better.’ — ‘ Thank  you,  sir,  I thought 
a ride  would  do  me  good.’ — ‘ So  it  will ; but  just  come 
here  a minute  ; I want  to  speak  to  you.’  So  saying 
Jacobson  hurried  across  the  quadrangle,  with  his  usual 
short  quick  step  ; and  before  the  huntsman  who  fol- 
lowed him  perceived  what  he  was  about,  he  found 
himself  in  the  Hall,  where  a class  was  writing  Latin 
prose.  In  a moment  Jacobson  had  put  a ^Spectator  ’ into 
his  hand,  and,  pointing  to  a marked  passage, — ‘Just 


1836]  The  Single-minded  Bishop. 


257 


translate  that  into  Latin  for  me  ; you  will  enjoy  your 
ride  all  the  better  afterwards.’  There  was  no  resisting  ; 
the  man  had  to  do  it.  But  such  was  the  dexterity  and 
good  humour  with  which  the  task  was  imposed,  that  the 
victim  himself, — while  confessing  that  he  had  met  with 
more  than  his  match, — was  willing  to  regard  the  entire 
transaction  as  nothing  more  than  an  excellent  practical 
joke  of  the  Vice-Principal  at  his  expense.”  ^ 

No  one  can  be  surprised  to  hear  that  Dr.  Longley  gave 
Jacobson  the  option  of  an  under-mastership  at  Harrow 
(1836);  or  that  Jacobson  was  disposed  to  accept  the 
offer.  But  his  friend’s  promotion  to  the  see  of  Bipon 
at  this  very  time  deprived  the  position  of  at  least  half 
its  attractiveness  in  his  eyes.  Thereupon,  Jacobson  was 
urged  to  offer  himself  as  Longley’s  successor  at  Harrow; 
but  the  preferred  candidate  was  Dr.  Christopher  Words- 
worth, the  late  learned  and  pious  Bishop  of  Lincoln.  In 
the  estimation  of  a competent  judge,  Jacobson  would 
have  made  a successful  schoolmaster. 

“ In  Arnold’s  days  he  went  to  examine  at  Rugby. 
The  examiner  in  Modern  History  had  not  mastered  his 
subject,  but  drew  his  questions  from  a book  before  him ; 
until  Jacobson  could  bear  it  no  longer,  broke  in,  and 
took  the  boys  through  their  work  in  a most  brilliant 
manner.  The  examination  over,  Arnold  offered  the 
future  Bishop  a Mastership  under  him,  saying,  ‘ I see 
that  you  understand  the  young  animal.’  ” ^ 

The  visit  to  Rome  above  recorded,  Jacobson  reckoned 
(as  well  he  might)  among  the  most  precious  incidents  of 
his  life.  Writing  from  Vienna  to  the  same  friend,  two 
years  after,  (Sept,  ist,  1834),  he  recalls  with  delight 

® From  the  Eev.  G.  S.  Ward,  gestion,  I have  substituted  ‘Jacob- 
Fellow  and  Tutor  of  Hertford  Col-  son’  for  ‘Arnold’  (in  line  4),  pre- 
lege, — late  Magdalen  Hall.  suming  that  ‘Arnold’  must  needs 

^ From  Canon  Gray.  (I  think  it  be  a slip  of  the  pen.) 
right  to  say  that,  at  a friend’s  sug- 

VOL.  II. 


S 


258  William  Jacobson:  [1835 

“ those  ten  days  of  enjoyment, — greater,  I do  believe, 
than  ever  fell  to  my  lot  before,  and  certainly  unequalled 
since.” 

I must  not  fail  to  mention  that  notwithstanding  the 
engrossing  labours  of  the  Hall, — of  which  practically 
he  was  at  once  Principal,  Dean,  Tutor,  Chaplain,  and 
Treasurer, — Jacobson  was  all  along  a thoughtful  and 
laborious  student  in  Divinity.  His  learned  familiarity 
with  the  Book  of  Common  Prayer  was  truly  extraor- 
dinary. He  had  been  a most  conscientious  and  reverent 
reader  of  the  Bible.  With  the  writings  of  Christian 
antiquity  he  had  formed  a considerable  acquaintance, 
and  had  read  to  good  purpose  a vast  amount  of  Anglican 
divinity  besides.  The  name  of  his  chief  guide  in  Sacred 
Science,  who  was  also  his  attached  friend,  has  been 
already  mentioned ; and  we  have  seen  with  what  as- 
siduity he  was  thus  early  in  life  engaged  upon  what 
proved  his  principal  literary  undertaking.  Before  his 
marriage,  however,  (viz.,  so  early  as  1835)  he  produced 
his  elaborate  edition  of  Nowell’s  ‘ Catechism  ’ — a book 
which  ought  to  be  in  the  hands  of  every  English  clergy- 
man.^ This  was,  in  fact,  his  earliest  literary  effort. 

“ I have  just  completed  it,”  (he  wrote  to  Mr.  Fursdon 
from  ‘Magdalen  Hall,  April  16  th,  1835,’) — “byway  of 
feeler  to  my  Ajjostolicals,  which  I propose  to  stay  at  home 
this  summer  and  print.  Whether  the  world,  in  its 
present  state  of  excitement,  or  at  any  time,  will  care 
very  much  for  a sort  of  critical  edition  of  the  worthy 
^ Lean  of  Lowles I is  another  matter.” 

It  was,  I believe,  the  occasion  of  his  marriage  which 
induced  him  seriously  to  contemplate  such  a severance 

^ ‘ CatecMsmus,  sive  prima  In-  Alexandro Nowell; — ed. nova,Oxon. 
stitutio  disciplinaque  Pietatis  Chris-  1844;’ — pp.  xix;ix,  [9]  and  194. 
tianae  Latine  explicata, — Auctore 


259 


1836]  The  Single-minded  Bishop. 

from  Oxford  as  the  removal  to  Harrow  would  have 
entailed;  for  in  1836  (June  23rd)  he  became  united  to 
Eleanor  Jane,  youngest  of  the  six  accomplished  daugh- 
ters of  Dawson  Turner,  esq.,  banker,  of  Yarmouth ; a 
gentleman  of  fine  taste,  first-rate  scholarship,  and  high 
education,  who  is  probably  best  known  as  an  antiquary 
and  botanist.  Two  of  Jacobson’s  brothers-in-law  were 
the  late  Sir  William  Hooker  and  Sir  Francis  Palgrave. 
But  it  was  in  truth  a rare  and  delightful  household,  of 
which  the  brightest  ornament  was  Mrs.  Turner  herself. 

Supremely  happy  in  his  choice,  Jacobson  conducted 
his  bride  to  Oxford ; passing  the  ensuing  Long  Vacation 
at  the  neighbouring  village  of  Begbroke, — the  parish 
clerk  of  which  used  to  delight  in  recording  that  tlifee  of 
his  Curates  had  been  promoted  to  the  Episcopal  bench. 
He  took  charge  of  the  parish  for  the  present  excellent 
Bp.  of  S.  Albans,  who  was  at  that  time  Curate  to  the 
non-resident  Rector.  He  was  busy  all  this  time  with  his 
‘ Patres  Apostolici,^  and  used  to  walk  into  Oxford  almost 
daily,  in  order  to  prosecute  his  researches  at  the 
Bodleian. 

His  labours  saw  the  light  in  July  1838,  and  follow- 
ing as  they  did  within  three  years  his  edition  of  Nowell’s 
‘ Catechism^  Jacobson  became  at  once  recognized  as  a 
Divine  of  high  promise,  and  in  the  account  of  all  was 
a man  destined  for  distinction.  A second  Edition  ap- 
peared in  1840, — a third,  in  1847, — a fourth,  in  1863. 
To  this  work  in  fact  Jacobson  probably  owed  his  subse- 
quent promotion.  He  once  showed  me  a letter, — (very 
honourable  it  was  to  the  writer), — in  which  his  patron. 
Lord  John  Russell,  spoke  of  the  delight  and  refresh- 
ment which  the  Epistles  of  Ignatius  had  been  to  him 
amid  the  cares  of  office.  It  was  a pleasure  to  read  such 


26o  William  Jacobson:  [1839 

words.  His  edition  of  Nowell  also  (1835)  reached  a 
second  edition  in  1 844 ; in  the  Preface  to  which, — (a  very 
interesting  and  instructive  piece  of  writing,  by  the  way, 
which  deserves  to  be  attentively  read,) — Jacobson  states 
that  he  was  “ indebted  for  the  use  of  the  MS.  to  the 
kindness  of  his  father-in-law.”  ^ Mr.  Turner’s  library, 
in  fact,  abounded  in  such  rarities,  and  most  kind  and 
liberal  he  was  in  communicating  them. 

Jacobson  henceforth  steadily  devoted  himself  to 
University  and  collegiate  work  in  Oxford,  until  his 
removal  to  Chester  in  1865.  He  was  appointed  ‘Public 
Orator  ’ on  the  death  of  Dr.  Cramer  in  1 842 : — Select 
Preacher,  in  1833  and  42,  and  again  in  1869  ; but 
on  this  last  occasion  he  did  not  preach, — resigning  at 
the  end  of  the  first  year. 

So  conscious  was  he,  however,  of  the  necessity  of  im- 
parting a sanctifying  infiuence  to  secular  pursuits, — or 
rather,  so  anxious  was  he  to  leaven  his  tutorial  labours 
with  ministerial  work, — that  in  1839  he  accepted  at  the 
hands  of  Archdeacon  Clerke  (whose  donative  it  was)  the 
perpetual  curacy  of  Iffley,  near  Oxford.  There  was  no 
residence,  and  the  endowment  was  but  39/.  a year ; but 
he  worked  the  parish  assiduously,  and  in  visiting  a case 
of  typhus  caught  the  fever  himself. 

It  was  a great  relief  when,  in  1 848,  he  found  himself 
appointed  to  the  Regius  Professorship  of  Divinity  at 
Oxford,  with  which  a Canonry  and  canonical  residence 
at  Christ  Church  are  connected.  He  now  also  succeeded 
Dr.  Hampden  in  the  rectory  of  Ewelme,  with  which  the 
professorship  had  been  further  endowed  by  King  James  I. 
Jacobson  had  in  the  meantime  left  his  mark  for  good 

® p.  xix  {sic). 


26i 


1848]  The  Single-minded  Bishop. 

on  the  Hall,  where  he  numbered  among  his  pupils  Sir 
George  Hasent  and  Mr.  Delane,  Nicholas  Woodard  and 
Edward  Lowe,  Bishops  MacDougall  and  Kyan  ; Manuel 
Johnson  (Radcliffe  Observer)  and  Henry  Hubert  Cornish 
(the  late  admirable  and  lamented  Principal  of  New  Inn 
Hall) ; the  eccentric  ‘ Hawker  of  Morwenstow,’  Canon 
Trevor,  Prebendary  Bowles  of  Chichester,  John  Earle 
(Professor  of  Anglo-Saxon),  and  many  other  men  of 
worth  and  distinction.  He  certainly  enjoyed  in  a very 
high  degree  the  happy  faculty  of  attaching  men  to  him- 
self. I have  never  known  a member  of  Magdalen  Hall 
(1832-48)  who  did  not  speak  of  the  Vice-Principal  with 
affection  approaching  to  enthusiasm.  He  resided  through- 
out much  of  this  period  in  the  little  red-brick  house  in 
New  College-lane, — the  only  house  which  was  available, 
for  it  commanded  the  quadrangle  and  nearly  faced  the 
lodge.  How  Jacobson  and  his  wife  contrived  to  live 
there  with  six  little  children,  was  a problem  which  no 
one  could  ever  solve.  As  the  wit  remarked,  when  the  guests 
at  Holland  House  were  ordered  to  “ make  room  for  Lut- 
trell  ” at  an  already  over-crowded  table, — “ It  must  be 
made,  for  it  does  not  exist . . . They  subsequently  in- 
habited the  adjoining  house,  which  stands  back  a little 
from  the  lane.^ 

Besides  the  works  already  mentioned,  I know  of  no 
literary  efforts  of  his  belonging  to  this  period  except  the 
volume  of  village  ^Sermons  jpreaclied  in  the  Parish  Church 
of  Iffley,  Oxon^  which  he  printed  “ as  a parting  token  of 
goodwill  to  his  late  parishioners.”  They  were  published 
“ in  the  hope  that  the  sale  of  the  volume  might  possibly 
benefit  the  Ifiley  Parochial  Schools.”  This  little  work 

* Once  tlie  residence  of  Halley,  the  astronomer:  quite  recently,  in- 
habited by  Prof.  Donkin. 


262  William  Jacobson:  [1848 

reached  a second  edition  in  1846.  An  Ordination 
sermon  {^Clerical  Duties')  preached  at  Christ  Church, 
December  20,  1835,  and  published  by  Bishop  Bagot’s 
desire, — and  another  sermon  on  the  Queen’s  Accession, 
Truth  mid  Peace  ’)  preached  at  S.  Mary’s  in  1847, — are  his 
only  other  efforts  previous  to  his  elevation  to  the  Chair 
of  Divinity  in  1848  ; an  appointment  which  he  owed  to 
the  good  opinion  of  Lord  John  Russell,  who  was  Prime 
Minister  from  1846  to  1852. 

The  happiest  period  of  Dr.  Jacobson’s  life  was  that  on 
which  he  entered  (May  4th,  1848),  when  he  and  his 
admirable  wife  transferred  their  little  brood  of  six 
children  from  New  College-lane  to  the  canonical  resi- 
dence in  Christ  Church.  By  the  way,  he  was  the  last 
Regius  Professor  of  Divinity  save  one,  (viz.  the  present 
Dean  of  Canterbury,)  who  resided  in  the  house  which  for 
so  many  years  had  been  assigned  to  the  occupant  of  the 
Divinity  Chair ; that,  namely,  on  the  east  side  of  the 
quadrangle  adjoining  the  gateway  which  leads  to  the 
Hall.  It  was  the  only  Canon’s  residence  wholly  un- 
furnished with  a garden,  and  is  now  devoted  to  collegiate 
purposes.  The  changes  which  it  has  in  consequence 
undergone  have  rendered  the  interior  scarcely  recognis- 
able ; but  the  library,  in  which  not  a few  generations 
of  divinity  students  have  passed  so  many  profitable 
hours,  was  on  your  right  as  you  entered, — extending 
through  the  building,  and  furnished  with  two  windows 
at  either  extremity.  The  Professor’s  public  lectures  were 
(and  are)  delivered  in  the  Latin  Chapel  of  the  Cathedral ; 
but  his  library  used  to  be  the  scene  of  his  private  teach- 
ing,— which  we  prized  far  more  highly. 

It  is  remarked  by  Canon  Farrar  of  Durham  that 
Jacobson  never  received  due  praise  for  his  Lectures  as 


1848]  The  Single-minded  Bishop.  263 

Regius  Professor  of  Divinity.  His  public  lectures  were 
in  truth  too  valuable  to  be  popular.  “ They  were  ‘ a 
mere  list  of  books  ’ in  the  account  of  some, — while  a wag 
actually  estimated  the  weight  of  the  books  he  recom- 
mended to  be  read  as  ‘ five  and-a-half  tons.’  But  the 
more  thoughtful  of  his  auditory, — certainly  the  more 
advanced, — judged  of  them  very  differently.”  The  friend 
already  quoted  proceeds, — 

“ I heard  and  carefully  analysed  his  compulsory 
course,  at  a time  when,  having  been  appointed  to  Dur- 
ham, I asked  leave  to  attend  the  Lectures  of  various 
Professors  that  I might  see  their  mode  of  teaching.  My 
conviction  is  that  Jacobson’s  lectures  were  of  the  greatest 
importance,  and  would  have  ranked  in  the  highest  class 
of  excellence  had  they  been  delivered  as  a course  on 
Theologische  Encgclopaedie  in  a German  University.  But 
in  fact  those  twelve  terminal  lectures  were  a very  small 
part  of  what  he  did.  He  always  gave  in  addition,  at 
least  three  lectures  weekly.” 

The  minuteness,  extent,  and  accuracy  of  Jacobson’s 
knowledge,  whatever  the  subject  of  his  lectures  might 
be,  was  extraordinary.  His  favourite  theme  was  the 
‘ Book  of  Common  Prayer.’  On  such  occasions  he  was 
highly  communicative  and  perfectly  delightful ; ex- 
pressing his  individual  opinion  and  personal  sentiments, 
without  reserve.  An  interleaved  copy  of  the  ‘ Scotch 
book’  (1637), — annotated  throughout  by  himself, — was 
his  text-book  and  repertory  of  references.  He  be- 
queathed that  precious  tome  to  Archdeacon  (since  Dean) 
Darby.  Next  to  the  largeness  of  his  knowledge,  his 
singular  fairness, — the  absence  in  him  of  prejudice  and 
partisanship, — was  what  used  to  strike  us  most.  And 
his  was  honestly  acquired  knowledge, — the  result  of 
patient  reading,  original  research,  much  thought,  and 
sound  judgment.  He  could  always  find  what  he 


264 


Will  I A m J a cobson  : 


[1850 


wanted  in  a moment : and  in  the  course  of  a single 
lecture,  it  was  marvellous  how  many  books  with  which 
we  were  wholly  unacquainted  he  would  produce,  as  well 
from  his  own  shelves  as  from  “ Allestree,” — which  is  the 
designation  of  an  interesting  little  library  left  to  Christ 
Church  by  the  famous  Divine  whose  name  it  bears  (1618- 
80),  for  the  use  of  his  successors  in  the  Divinity  Chair.^  It 
was  a great  help  to  he  shown  (as  well  as  to  hear  about) 
the  prse-Eeformation  Service  books : to  have  the  place 
pointed  out  to  one  where  the  germ  of  a Collect  is  to  be 
found ; or  to  have  one’s  attention  directed  to  an  impor- 
tant rubric  in  some  forgotten  ‘Use’ ; or  to  be  shown  in 
situ  the  places  in  Hermann  of  Cologne’s  ‘ Consultatio’  from 
which  our  Reformers  obtained  their  hints.  Jacobson  in 
fact  revived, — but  with  infinitely  improved  appliances, 
and  far  greater  knowledge  of  the  subject, — the  system 
of  teaching  which  Bishop  Lloyd  had  so  successfully 
initiated,  (I  mean  with  so  much  good  fruit,)  in  1827. 

Second  in  interest  to  Jacobson’s  P.  B.  lectures,  but  in 
no  other  respect  inferior  to  them,  were  his  readings  (so 
to  describe  them)  in  Routh’s  ‘ Opuscula!  A treatise  of 
Hippolytus  or  of  Tertullian, — the  Canons  of  the  early 
Councils, — a Synodical  Epistle ; — I should  find  it  hard  to 
describe  the  advantage  it  was,  under  his  guidance,  to 
acquaint  oneself  with  such  choice  samples  of  Patristic 
Antiquity.  He  had  the  subject  at  his  fingers’  ends. 
There  was  no  time  wasted.  But  O how  fast  the  hour 

® With  characteristic  modesty  5th,  1829’),  I find  as  follows: — ‘We 
and  faithfulness,  Dr.  Jacobson  ar-  remained  at  Bellevue  in  Wicklow 
ranged,  labelled,  and  laboriously  for  about  a month ; during  part  of 
catalogued  the  curious  tomes  in  which  time,  I catalogued  the  Li- 
that  library, — with  every  one  of  brary, — ‘ caelum  non  animum  mu- 
which  he  was  himself  thoroughly  tant,’  &c.  I was  as  busy  as  once 
familiar. — In  a letter  of  his  to  his  at  Fursdon,  though  not  so  agi-eeably 
friend  Mr.  Fursdon  Dublin y March  assisted.” 


1850]  The  Sinole-minded  Bishop.  265 

seemed  to  slip  away ! And  O — at  the  end  of  forty  years 
— for  one  of  those  hours  back  again  ! 

It  should  be  recorded  to  his  praise  that  he  would  take 
as  much  pains  with  a class  consisting  of  two  or  three 
men  as  if  twenty  had  been  present : was  always  cheer- 
ful, always  indulgent,  always  evidently  fond  of  his 
work ; never  anxious  to  get  rid  of  us.  Singularly 
indicative  of  his  conscientiousness  and  kindness  was  his 
occasional  practice  of  privately  reading  one  of  his 
public  lectures  to  a single  candidate  who  had  unavoid- 
ably been  absent  and  missed  it ; — rather  than  wink  at  the 
man’s  irregularity  on  the  one  hand,  or  suffer  him  to  be 
disappointed  of  his  certificate,  on  the  other. 

Many  a slumbering  memory  is  awakened  in  the  case 
of  ancient  pupils,  when  the  death  is  announced  of  such 
an  one  as  the  subject  of  the  present  Memoir.  The 
following  “ little  incident,  which  shows  alike  his 
humility  and  his  kindly  interest  in  those  he  had  to 
do  with  at  Oxford,”  is  sent  me  by  a stranger  : ^ “ At 
the  end  of  his  Prayer-Book  Lectures  which  I attended  in 
1858,  he  called  me  up  to  him, — (or  came  up  to  me, 
I forget  which,) — and  said  ‘ May  I thank  you  for  your 
attention  to  my  Lectures  ? It  is  such  a help  to  a 
Lecturer  to  see  some  closely  following  him.’  ” — Yes,  the 
anecdote  is  characteristic, — and  honourable  to  both 
parties.  I incline  to  think  that  Dr.  Jacobson  came  up 
to  Mr.  Bullock  ; looked  quietly — kindly — at  him  for  an 
instant ; and  then  said  the  words  recorded,  giving  him 
an  honest,  hearty  squeeze  of  the  hand. 

Any  one  coming  to  a private  lecture  a little  before  the 
time,  was  pretty  sure  to  find  him  standing  at  his  upright 


Eev.  Gr.  T.  Bullock,  of  Rownhams  parsonage,  Southampton. 


2 66  Willi  A m J a cob  son  : [1856 

desk  absorbed  in  study;  the  floor  strewed  with  toys,  and 
Burton,  his  favourite  child,  (if  one  child  could  be  called 
a favourite  where  all  were  so  fondly  loved,)  crying 
“Woh!”  to  a little  wooden  horse.  Two  volumes  of 
Augustine  set  on  end  were  observed  to  aflbrd  commo- 
dious stabling  ; while  ‘ Lamb  on  the  Articles  ’ left  nothing 
to  be  desired  in  the  way  of  roof.  “ Now  you  must  go, 
sir ! ” — and  the  bell  was  rung  for  the  maid.  But  unless 
my  memory  deceives  me.  Burton  sometimes  made  terms 
on  parole  to  sit  quiet  behind  a screen:  informing  his 
father,  when  lecture  was  over  and  he  emerged  from 
obscurity,  that  tide  what  tide  he  would  never  be  “a 
divinity  man.  ” The  dear  child  sleeps  in  Ewelme 
Churchyard.  The  roses  are  fresh  on  his  little  grave 
to  this  hour.  His  death,  (September  20th,  1856,)  when 
he  was  not  quite  eight  years  old,  was  a heavy  blow 
indeed  to  the  parents.  . . . How  fond  Jacobson  was  of 
that  droll  little  creature ! I think  I see  him  reading 
aloud  to  me  a letter  of  Burton’s,  fresh  from  Ewelme, — 
(and  such  a letter!).  . . “Just  look,” — (pointing  to  an 
extraordinary  hieroglyphic), — “ instead  of  signing  his 
name,  the  child  has  tried  to  draw  a little  figure  of  a 
man, — as  you  do  ! ” . . . It  was  a very  gentle  and  warm 
heart  indeed  which  was  concealed  beneath  that  some- 
what abrupt  manner  and  blunt  address. 

While  on  this  head,  I may  as  well  record  two  kindred 
sorrows  which  belonged  to  the  preceding  year — viz.,  the 
loss  of  Mary,  the  first-born  of  his  ten  children  [Feb. 
28th,  1839 — April  nth,  1855],  one  of  the  most  perfect 
little  beings  I ever  knew ; and  of  Grace,  the  fifth  child, 
who  followed  her  sister  within  a few  weeks  (June  30th, 
] 855),  being  then  just  ten  years  old.  They  sleep  side  by 
side  under  the  black-and-white  marble  pavement  of  the 


1850]  The  Single-minded  Bishop. 


267 


Cathedral, — lovely  and  pleasant  in  their  lives,  and  in 
their  death,”  (as  the  brief  Latin  epitaph  records,)  “ not 
divided.”  These  events  cast  sombre  shadows  over  a 
pathway  else  bright  with  promise.  Besides  Burton, 
three  more  children, — Katharine,  Longley,  and  Robert, — 
were  born  to  him  at  this  time, — namely,  in  1850,  1852, 
and  1855  respectively.  Notwithstanding  the  many 
sorrows  of  the  period,  I incline  to  believe  that  the  years 
at  Christ  Church  were,  on  the  whole,  the  happiest  season 
of  William  Jacobson’s  life. 

The  pleasant  rectory  of  Ewelme,  which  is  within  easy 
distance  of  Oxford,  ought  never  to  have  been  alienated 
from  the  Regius  Professorship  of  Divinity.  Its  sever- 
ance was  one  of  Mr.  Gladstone’s  misdeeds, — effected 
under  circumstances  (I  forbear  to  reproduce  them)  which 
made  it  peculiarly  offensive  to  the  University,  as  well 
as  damaging  to  himself.  Jacobson  pleaded  earnestly 
against  the  measure,  and  resented  it  with  something 
of  bitterness.  It  was  wholly  uncalled  for.  During  half 
the  year,  Ewelme  used  to  afford  the  occupant  of  the 
Divinity  Chair  a precious  opportunity  for  pastoral 
ministrations  and  the  exercise  of  his  sacred  office.  It 
provided  him  and  his  family  with  a delightful  retreat 
from  the  incessant  harass  of  academic  life ; and  in  the 
summer  season  proved  no  ordinary  solace  and  advantage 
to  the  Professor,  for  he  conveyed  his  books  to  Ewelme, 
and  was  able  to  make  uninterrupted  progress  with 
whatever  work  he  happened  to  have  in  hand.  Of  course 
an  admirable  colleague  (Rev.  T.  H.  Gillam),'^  with  a 
liberal  stipend,  resided  at  Ewelme  continuously;  and 
the  charitable  demands  of  the  place  of  whatever  kind  the 

Subsequently  chaplain  to  the  bishop,  and  Vicar  of  Weaverhani, 
Cheshire.  See  below,  p.  286. 


268 


William  Jacobson: 


[1854 


Rector  insisted  on  making  exclusively  his  own  concern. 
The  Church  abounds  in  historical  interest,  and  there  is 
a quaint  picturesque  Hospital  there,  in  the  poor  occu- 
pants of  which  Jacobson  greatly  delighted.  That  ancient 
foundation  retains  some  curious  archives,  and  is  yearly 
visited  by  the  Regius  Professor  of  Medicine,  its  master. 
Dr.  Kidd,  who  held  the  office  long  since,  once  conducted 
me  thither  with  him.  A more  old-world  institution  never 
was  witnessed.  The  “ Visitation,”  (a  thing  not  easily  to 
be  forgotten,)  lasted  a whole  day.  We  stopped  to  dine 
at  Benson,  on  our  way  back — (it  was  a tradition) : and 
reached  Oxford  at  10  p.m. : — Ewelme  itself  being  but 
14  miles  from  Oxford,  and  Benson  between  ii  and  I2. 


Dr.  Jacobson  was  at  this  time  engaged  on  his  edition 
of  the  Works  of  Bishop  Sanderson,  which  appeared  in 
six  volumes  in  1854.  A more  admirable  specimen  of 
exact  and  faithful  editorship  does  not  exist.  This 
undertaking  had  been  on  his  hands  for  many  years,  and 
must  have  cost  him  no  ordinary  amount  of  conscientious 
labour ; — witness  the  list  of  “ Words,  rare,  or  used  in  a 
peculiar  sensei'  in  the  Index.  Readers  of  Sanderson 
know  his  practice  of  quoting  short  Latin  sayings,  without 
dropping  a hint  as  to  their  authorship  or  origin.  In 
tracing  these  back  to  their  sources,  Jacobson  was  in- 
defatigable. The  residuum,  when  his  task  was  wellnigh 
completed,  he  communicated  to  his  friends,  invoking 
their  help.  A bit  of  paper  inscribed  with  twenty-five  of 
these  in  his  beautiful  writing  still  lies  in  the  copy  of 
Sanderson  he  gave  me ; as,  Cedat  necessiiudo  necessitati : 
Regium  est,  quum  recte  feceris,  audire  male : Velint,  nolint, 
fratres  sunt : Tot  Domini  quot  vitia, — and  so  forth.  He 
often  remarked  to  me  that,  in  his  judgment,  Sanderson 
had  a truer  insight  into  the  mind  of  S.  Paul  than  any 


269 


1858]  The  Single-minded  Bishop. 

other  commentator.  I will  but  add  of  my  own,  that 
there  always  seemed  to  me  to  be  considerable  affinity 
of  disposition  between  Sanderson  and  his  Editor:  de- 
riving my  impressions  of  Sanderson  from  Izaak  Walton’s 
life, — my  estimate  of  Jacobson,  chiefly  from  my  inter- 
course with  him  during  his  Christ  Church  days.  While 
busy  with  Sanderson’s  personal  history,  Jacobson  visited 
Lincolnshire  (September,  1853),  and  was  introduced  to 
many  interesting  relics  of  the  Bishop ; also  “ a court 
dress  of  very  rich  flowered  white  silk,  worn  by  his 
wife.” 

Two  years  before  bringing  out  this  edition  of  Sander- 
son’s ‘ Works  I namely,  in  June,  1852,  Dr.  Jacobson 
published  his  valuable  edition  of  the  ^Paraphrase  and, 
Annotations  ’ upon  S.  Paul’s  Epistles,  popularly  known 
as  “ Fell’s.”  In  fact  the  printer  has  actually  marked 
every  sheet  “ Fell,  &c.,” — though,  as  the  editor  explains 
in  his  Preface,  there  is  good  reason  for  doubting  whether 
that  learned  prelate  had  anything  to  do  with  the  per- 
formance. This  only  emerged  in  the  course  of  editorial 
investigation.  The  Paraphrase  seems  in  fact  to  have 
been  the  production  of  different  hands,  and  chiefly  of 
Obadiah  Walker,  a Papist.  But  however  it  may 
have  originated, — by  whomsoever  it  may  have  been 
reduced  to  its  actual  state, — the  Paraphrase  is  ad- 
mirable, and  the  book  a very  useful  book  indeed. 

No  one  seems  to  be  aware  that  in  1858  Dr.  Jacobson 
also  conducted  through  the  University  Press  an  edition 
of  Bouth’s  ‘ Scriptorum  Ecclesiasticorum  Opuscula  praecipua 
quaedam’  The  proof-sheets,  elaborately  corrected  through- 
out, I often  saw  in  his  hands,  and  can  testify  to  the 
drudgery  he  must  have  undergone  in  consequence  of  the 
many  little  editorial  oversights  of  the  venerable  President 


270 


William  Jacobson: 


[i860 

of  Magdalen.  When  at  last  the  Editor  presented  me  with 
a copy  {^Amico  amicus^  Octob.  14,  1858’),  I discovered  that 
the  two  volumes  absolutely  contain  no  record  whatever  of 
the  self-denying  labour  he  had  bestowed  upon  them. 
It  is  as  characteristic  an  anecdote  of  the  man  as  any 
I could  relate.  He  was  certainly  one  of  the  most  humble- 
minded  persons  I ever  knew ; absolutely  devoid  of 
conceit,  self-seeking,  or  self-sufficiency. 

Another  incident  of  the  same  kind  presents  itself. 
Many  years  ago,  he  entertained  the  design  of  putting  forth 
a Latin  version  of  our  English  Book  of  Common  Prayer. 
He  had  often  casually  mentioned  the  undertaking  to  me ; 
asking  me  once  what  I considered  to  be  the  best  word 
for  “ dominions.”  ® That  the  design  had  been  abandoned 
I knew ; but  I seem  to  have  been  mistaken  in  supposing 
that  it  was  the  appearance  of  a similar  attempt  by  two 
Fellows  of  University  College  (Canons  Bright  and  Medd) 
which  had  been  the  occasion  why  no  more  was  said 
about  it.  His  Chaplain  now  writes  : — 

“ I was  talking  with  him  on  the  best  Latin  rendering 
of  ‘ Godfathers  and  Godmothers’  {patrmus  and  matrina,  or 
susceptor  and  susceptrix^  or  whatever  it  might  be) ; and 
after  bringing  down,  more  suo,  books  bearing  on  the 
point,  he  opened  a drawer  in  his  writing-table  and 
produced  an  interleaved  Prayer-book  with  his  own  MS. 
translation  of  it,  not  quite  complete.  It  had  been  begun 
with  a view  to  its  publication  by  the  Society  for  Pro- 
moting Christian  Knowledge;  but  through  some  mis- 
understanding, (I  saw  Bishop  Wilberforce’s  attempt  at 
explanation).  Dr.  Biber,  whose  name  you  may  remember, 
had  undertaken  the  same  work  ; and  it  ended  in  neither 
being  adopted  by  the  Society.  I expressed  my  surprise 
at  a work  of  so  much  labour  having  been  laid  aside, 
unmentioned  by  him  for  years ; and  a few  days  after- 

**  ‘ Dominiorum  ’ is  found  in  his  MS. 


271 


1865]  The  Single-minded  Bishop. 

wards  he  brought  it  out  again,  saying — ‘ Well,  Gray, 
is  this  to  be  for  the  fire,  or  for  you  had  it 

bound  in  vellum  in  two  volumes,  and  it  is  now  the 
much- valued  centre  of  the  Liturgical  shelf  in  my  small 
library.” 

Dr.  Jacobson’s  appointment  by  Lord  Palmerston  to 
the  bishopric  of  Chester  (June  23rd,  1865)  was  a painful 
severance  to  many  besides  myself.  He  had  been  con- 
tinuously resident  in  the  University  ever  since  his 
undergraduate  days.  To  those  who  loved  him,  (and 
those  loved  him  most  who  knew  him  best),  he  had 
become  a necessary  part  of  the  place, — an  essential 
element  in  their  own  daily  life.  He  too  was  quickly 
made  to  feel  that  he  was  entering  on  an  entirely  new 
phase  of  existence.  Perforce  he  must  henceforth  bid 
adieu  to  those  studious  habits  which  had  been  the 
‘ crown  and  joy  ’ of  the  last  five-and- thirty  years  : must 
become,  to  a great  extent,  a man  of  action.  I remember 
saying  to  him, — (the  only  spiteful  thing  I ever  said), — 
‘ At  all  events,  young  man,  7iow  you  will  hQ  forced  to  give 
an  opinion, — about  once  a day.’  ...  I cannot  forget  the 
good-natured  laugh  with  which  he  gave  another  turn  to 
the  conversation. 

Having  reached  the  close  of  an  important  chapter  in 
his  life  (so  to  speak,)  I may  here  refer  to  certain  other 
features  of  Dr.  Jacobson’s  character.  That  which  chiefly 
presents  itself  to  the  memory  is  his  unswerving  sincerity, 
truthfulness,  and  high  sense  of  honour.  His  was  essenti- 
ally an  upright,  earnest,  GoD-fearing  life.  “ If”  (writes  a 
friend  already  quoted®)  “there  was  one  trait  in  Jacobson’s 
character  which  more  than  another  won  for  him  the 
respect  of  his  contemporaries,  it  was  his  integrity T It 


® Professor  Farrar  of  Durham. 


272  William  Jacobson  : [1865 

should  have  been  related  in  an  earlier  page  that  the  first 
money  he  was  able  to  scrape  together  by  strict  frugality 
at  Oxford,  he  sent  to  Homerton,  the  Independent  College 
where  as  a youth  he  had  studied  for  two  years,  in  order 
to  reimburse  that  Institution  for  whatever  his  two  years 
of  residence  might  be  considered  to  have  cost  it.  The 
trait  is  highly  characteristic.  The  students  at  such 
Colleges  are  educated  gratuitously, — which  made  this  a 
debt  of  honour. 

In  connection  with  what  precedes,  ^ ^ fait  1/ ful- 
ness to  Ms  friends  deserves  more  than  passing  notice. 
Would  it  be  truer  to  say  that  this  was  the  result  of  his 
many-sidedness, — which  was  ever  ready  to  discern  points 
of  affinity  in  seemingly  alien  natures  ? Or,  was  it  not 
rather  a consequence  of  the  generosity  of  his  disposition, 
that, — his  heart  once  interested  in  another’s  favour, — 
he  was  straightway  prepared  to  make  gracious  allow- 
ance, and  to  recognise  points  of  contact  in  the  least 
promising  quarters?  and  thus,  was  made  to  seem, — 
perhaps,  actually  to  he, — many-sided?  Certainly,  so 

cloudy  and  confused  a Christian  as  the  Rev.  F.  D. 
Maurice,  (however  amiable  and  accomplished,)  one  would 
have  expected  to  find  scarcely  endurable  by  a man  of 
such  severe  and  exact  orthodoxy  as  William  Jacob- 
son. Yet,  from  the  published  Correspondence  of  the 
former,  it  is  proved  that  between  him  and  Jacobson 
there  had  been  the  closest  intimacy.  The  generous 
warmth  of  Jacobson’s  letters  to  the  friend  of  his  youth 
is  very  striking.^  Their  acquaintance  may  have  origin- 
ated in  F.  D.  M.’s  father  being  an  Unitarian  minister, 
near  Lowestoft : but  it  will  have  been  cemented  by  Mrs. 

^ I owe  to  the  friendship  of  Pre-  Maurice'  (1884), — pp.  99, 123,  131, 
bendary  Cowley  Powles  the  follow-  179,  356:  but  especially  pp.  iii 
ing  references  to  the  ‘ Life  of  F.  D.  and  1 1 3. 


273 


1865]  The  Single-minded  Bishop. 

Sterling’s  warm  regard  for  Maurice,  who  in  after  times 
became  John  Sterling’s  brother-in-law. — In  like  manner, 
that  eccentric  individual,  the  Eev.  Robert  S.  Hawker  of 
Morwenstow,  seemed  Jacobson’s  very  opposite.  There 
was  a considerable  bond  between  them,  notwithstanding  : 
how  cemented,  I know  not. — The  strong  attachment 
which  subsisted  between  him  and  Sir  Colin  Campbell, 
Lord  Clyde,  is  thought  to  have  begun  under  the  roof  of 
Mr.  Sterling, — father  of  Colonel  and  of  the  Rev.  John 
Sterling.  It  was  strengthened  at  Bonn,  where  Jacobson 
spent  the  summer  of  1 834,  and  constantly  met  Captain 
Campbell  at  the  house  of  a lady  whose  elder  daughter 
married  Mr%  John  Sterling, — the  younger  daughter  be- 
coming the  wife  of  Frederick  Maurice.  This  connection 
drew  the  reserved  Divine  and  the  dashing  Officer  into 
friendly  relations  which  lasted  till  the  end  of  life.  At 
Oxford  and  at  Ewelme  it  was  truly  refreshing  to  see  the 
warm-hearted  simple-minded  old  soldier  again  and  again 
turn  up  unexpectedly : kind  to  the  dear  wife, — kind  to 
the  dear  children, — but  most  unmistakably  enjoying, 
above  all  things,  a long  confidential  tete-a-iete  with  his 
host;  a revival  of  old  memories,  lasting  well  into  the 
night.  Sir  Colin  died  in  1863.  I noticed  in  the  papers 
that  Jacobson  was  one  of  those  who  followed  him  to  his 
grave  in  Westminster  Abbey. 

“ Of  his  extreme  tenderness  of  heart”  (writes  one  who 
knew  him  later  on  in  life  “ there  can  be  no  doubt ; 
and  this  is  a point  which  certainly  did  not  strike  every 
one  at  first.  He  was  sometimes  blunt  and  abrupt ; and 
the  delays  and  reserve  often  made  restless  people  im- 
patient. But  all  who  were  in  frequent  and  close  inter- 
course with  him  became  aware  of  his  sensitive  and 
thoughtful  kindness.  This  fact  could  easily  be  illustrated 

^ Dean  Howson, — * Guardian^  27  Aug.  1S84. 

T 


VOL.  II. 


2 74  William  Jacobson:  [1865 

by  many  examples:  but  it  is  better  thus  to  state  it 
simply  and  strongly.” 

On  the  other  hand,  it  should  be  recorded  that  the  pre- 
vailing impression  concerning  Dr.  Jacobson  in  Oxford 
was  derived  from  a surface  view  of  his  character.  He  was 
esteemed  the  very  impersonation  of  prudence  and  reserve. 
Men  said, — “ If  you  want  to  have  a secret  kept,  tell  it  to 
JacohsonT  He  was  accounted  (but  untruly  accounted)  a 
man  from  whom  you  could  never  extract  an  opinion. 
When  he  had  nothing  to  say,  he  would  be  silent.  Bp. 
Butler  would  have  greatly  commended  him  for  this,  and 
reckoned  it  a prime  note  of  wisdom  ; but  then  Bp.  Butler 
does  not  accurately  represent  the  average  University 
man.  Yes:  to  a superficial  observer.  Dr.  Jacobson 
seemed  prudent  to  a fault. 

I more  than  suspect  that  those  who  knew  him  most 
intimately  will  bear  me  witness  that  it  was  his  severely 
judicial  temperament  which  indisposed  him  to  take  a 
side,  and  throw  in  his  lot  with  a party.  It  was  this  habit 
of  mind  which  carried  him  safely  through  that  severe 
religious  crisis  of  which  he  witnessed  the  commencement 
at  Oxford,  and  long  outlived  the  close.  I have  dwelt  so 
largely  elsewhere^  on  the  great  religious  movement  of 
1833-45,  that  nothing  shall  be  added  on  the  subject  here. 
Not  that  Jacobson  lacked  generous  sympathy  with  the 
leading  spirits  of  that  period,  or  failed  to  appreciate  the 
greatness  of  the  work  they  were  seeking  to  achieve  for 
the  Church  of  England.  They  were,  in  fact,  his  personal 
friends  and  familiars.  But  he  intuitively  detected  and 
dreaded  the  dangerous  tendency  of  the  later  Tractarian 
teaching,  and  would  not  in  any  way  identify  himself  with 
the  party.  Throughout  the  Tractarian  controversy,  he 

3 The  reference  is  to  vol.  i.pp.  194-201:  205-23:  305:  312-21 : 415-23. 


1865]  The  Single-minded  Bishop. 


275 


neither  wrote  a pamphlet,  nor  signed  any  one  of  the 
Addresses  or  Petitions  which  were  cropping  up  at  every 
instant.  Anglican  to  the  backbone,  he  was  all  the  time 
resolutely  building  himself  up  in  the  teaching  of  the 
Church  of  his  baptism,  and  steadily  pursuing  his  own 
career  of  unobtrusive  usefulness. 

Such  a course,  as  might  have  been  expected,  procured 
for  him  the  usual  epithets  of  being  a “ safe  ” and 
“ cautious  ” man ; as  if  “ caution  ” were  not  the  part  of 
wisdom,  or  as  if  “safety”  were  not  the  dearest  aspi- 
ration of  every  Christian  heart!  This  method  of  his 
exposed  him  also  to  not  a little  good-humoured  raillery. 
“You  are  a dangerous  man,  Jacobson!  You  are  a 
dangerous  man  1 ” — HuiTell  Froude  used  to  exclaim, 
pointing  at  him  with  his  thin  forefinger.  The  reader 
will  readily  believe  that  Jacobson  himself  was  not  un- 
conscious of  the  reputation  he  enjoyed  in  the  University 
for  excessive  prudence,  reticence,  discretion.  At  a great 
convivial  gathering  of  old  members  of  Exeter  College,  at 
which  Samuel  Wilberforce  was  a conspicuous  guest, 
some  burning  question  of  the  day  having  been  started, — 
‘‘  My  lord,”  exclaimed  some  one  at  table  (addressing  the 
Bishop,)  “What  do  you  think  Jacobson  says'?”  “Oh!” 
cried  the  Bishop,  turning  up  the  whites  of  his  eyes  with 
mock  solemnity,  as  if  meekly  resigning  himself  to  the 
coming  horrors, — “ I am  never  surprised  at  anything  he 
says ! ” . . . The  merriment  which  this  elicited  from  the 
assembled  guests,  so  tickled  Jacobson,  that  he  came 
across  to  my  rooms  and  told  me  the  story  next  morn- 
ing himself. 

I will  not  deny  that  he  sometimes  seemed  to  carry  his 
prudential  reticence  too  far.  For  example,  breakfasting 
with  him  one  morning,  (June  23rd,  1865),  I asked  ‘If 


276  William  Jacobson:  [1865 

it  was  known  yet  who  was  to  go  to  Chester?^  ‘‘Pre- 
mature!” in  a reproachful  voice,  was  all  I got  for  my 
pains.  He  stirred  up  his  tea  vigorously,  and  there  was  a 
dead  silence.  (The  see  had  not  been  long  vacant.)  On 
my  way  back  to  my  rooms,  half-an-hour  after,  I met  Dr. 
Jelf  in  Peckwater,  who  spoke  to  me  about  ‘ the  news,’ 
supposing  that,  of  course,  I knew  it  already.  It  was 
obvious  to  run  back  and  reproach  the  future  Bishop  of 
Chester.  We  had  a curious  scene  together.  . . . But  I 
am  bound  to  add  that  he  never  refused  to  give  me  his 
opinion,  or  left  me  in  doubt  as  to  what  his  opinion  was, 
if  he  saw  that  I really  wanted  it ; though  he  sometimes 
kept  me  an  inconveniently  long  time  waiting. 

“ Two  things  ” (writes  Dean  Darby)  “ combined  to 
make  him  backward  to  give  an  opinion : first, — Care 
never  to  urge  any  one’s  conscience:  secondly, — An 
intense  dislike  to  being  quoted ; with  a humorous 
feeling  that  few  people  quoted  others  with  that  ac- 
curacy which  he  deemed  indispensable.  When  he  felt 
complete  confidence  in  the  person  who  asked  his 
opinion,  he  gave  it, — provided  the  person  had  a right 
to  have  it.” 

This,  as  I have  said,  was  also  my  own  experience. 
I am  disposed  however  to  attribute*his  habitual  reticence, 
reserve,  caution,  (call  it  what  you  will,)  in  part  at  least, 
to  the  peculiar  cuxumstances  of  his  early  history.  He 
had  been  thrown  back  upon  himself, — (so  to  express  the 
matter,) — from  the  beginning;  had  lacked  early  sym- 
pathy : at  the  outset  of  his  career,  had  been  constrained 
to  fight  the  battle  of  life  entirely  alone : of  necessity 
had  been  self-dependent,  self-reliant.  He  thought  ten 
times  before  he  committed  himself  to  expressing  an 
opinion.  A single  characteristic  reply  of  his,  in  illus- 
tration of  the  matter  in  hand,  will  be  a sufiicient  sample 


1865]  The  Single-minded  Bishop.  277 

of  a class  of  mots  which  abounded  anciently  at  Oxford 
in  connection  with  “ dear  old  Jacobson  ” : — 

“ I cannot  refrain  ” (writes  the  friend  to  whom  the 
present  volumes  are  dedicated)  “ from  giving  you  one 
story  which  my  brother, — (at  Aigburth,  which,  till  the 
severance  of  the  diocese,  was  in  the  diocese  of  Chester,) — 
told  me.  He  was  dining  with  the  Bishop  within  a day 
or  two  (if  not  on  the  day)  when  the  Bennett  judgment 
was  pronounced,  and — not  unnaturally — inquired,  ‘ My 
lord,  what  do  you  think  of  the  judgment  think 

it  has  heen  a very  long  time  in  coming  outl — was  the  only 
satisfaction  he  got.” 

The  administration  of  a diocese  is  certainly  one  of 
the  most  laborious  and  engrossing  of  undertakings.  It 
literally  leaves  a man  time  for  nothing  else.  “ My  dear 
Burgon,” — (exclaimed  Dr.  Moberly,  the  late  Bishop  of 
Salisbury,  when  I visited  my  old  friend  shortly  before 
his  death  ; and  he  put  on  the  drollest  look  of  gravity  in 
order  to  give  due  emphasis  to  the  sentiment)  ; — “ The 
modern  idea  of  a Bishop  seems  to  be,  that  of  a man  in 
a continual  state  of  persjnratioyil'  . . . “Ah,  there  are  the  dear 
old  books,”  I exclaimed;  on  entering  Jacobson’s  library 
at  Deeside  in  1874.  “Don’t  talk  of  the  books,”  he 
rejoined  quickly  and  sadly,  “I  can  never  find  time  to 
open  one  of  them  now.”  But  he  rose  at  once,  as  if 
instinctively,  to  the  requirements  of  the  ’ Episcopal 
office  ; giving  himself  up  to  his  new  work  with  his 
usual  conscientious  devotion  to  whatever  he  knew  was 
his  duty.  Nor  did  he  fail  (the  reader  may  be  sure) 
to  acquaint  himself  with  the  books  in  the  Cathedral 
library  which  had  belonged  to  his  illustrious  predecessor. 
Bp.  Pearson.  More  than  once  did  he  tell  me  of  a copy 
of  the  lexicon  of  Hesychius,  on  the  title-page  of  which 
Pearson  has  written, — ‘ Hesycliiu  integru  primo  perlegi^ 


278 


William  Jacobson: 


[1866 

MDCLV,  Oct.  xn' — ‘ Iternm  MDCLXvri,  Mart,  x^.’  The 
idea  of  going  right  through  the  same  copy  of  Hesychius 
‘ iterim,'  evidently  tickled  Jacobson, — devoted  student 
and  scholar  as  he  was. 

Room  shall  be  found  in  this  place  for  a specimen  of 
Jacobson’s  familiar  epistolary  style : chiefly  because  it 
aptly  illustrates  his  disposition  and  the  tone  of  his  mind. 
But  it  also  belongs  to  the  first  days  of  his  episcopate, 
and  it  accompanied  the  first  thing  he  published  after  his 
removal  to  Chester,  viz.  an  admirable  sermon  on  ‘ The 
Cattle  Tlaquel — preached  in  the  Cathedral  on  Wednesday, 
Feb.  28,  1866. 

“My  dear  Burgon, — When  I was  leaving  my  family 
yesterday  to  come  to  Warrington,  where  I write  this, 
Katie  was  vehemently  declaring  that  she  mud  send  you 
a copy  of  a little  Sermon.  It  ought  never  to  have  been 
printed,  but  the  people  here  were  uncontrollable.  Not 
that  I should  ever  have  thought  of  bringing  it  under 
your  eyes. 

“I  know  you  have  plenty  to  do  with  your  time 
without  my  encroaching  on  it.  But  it  will  always  be  a 
very  great  pleasure  to  me  to  hear  from  you.  And  I 
will  now  ask  you  two  questions,  by  way  of  doing 
something  towards  securing  a sight  of  your  hand- 
writing : — 

“ 1°.  Do  you  know  a really  good  private  Tutor,  to 
whom  a young  man  might  be  sent  for  a year,  previously 
to  entering  at  Oxford  ? . . . 

“ qB.  Are  you  aware  of  the  ‘ Churching  of  IF omen  ’ ever 
being  absolutely  refused  in  case  of  the  child’s  ille- 
gitimacy'? I have  known  the  practice  of  using  the 
Office  in  such  cases  in  the  absence  of  the  congregation, 
where,  ordinarily,  the  Churching  took  place  in  the 
Service  before  the  General  Thanksgiving, — as  marking 
the  difference  between  a lawful  Wife  and  an  unmarried 
Mother. 

“ In  too  many  cases  of  illegitimate  births  the  unhappy 


1 866]  The  Single-minded  Bishop.  279 

Mother  makes  no  application  for  admission  to  return 
thanks.  When  the  application  is  made,  I do  not  see 
how,  under  present  state  of  Discipline,  a clergyman 
is  warranted  in  withholding  all  opportunity  for  the 
acknowledgment  of  God’s  Mercy, — on  the  part  of  one 
who  may  be  presumed  to  be  penitent  from  the  very  fact 
of  her  asking  for  it. — Always,  my  dear  Burgon,  most 
sincerely  yours, 

William  Chestek. 

“Chester,  March  21,  1866. 

“ You  will  remember  my  present  homeless,  and  con- 
sequently bookless,  condition,  as  some  excuse  for  my 
troubling  you.” 

His  succession  to  the  See  proved  a great  epoch  in 
its  history.  His  active  influence  for  good  was  felt 
instantly,  and  was  universally  acknowledged.  “ Did 
you  ever,” — (writes  the  present  Dean  of  Chester,  then 
Archdeacon  Darby,) — “ hear  of  the  Bishop,  with  that 
devotion  to  duty  which  was  so  intense,  and  so  utterly 
without  show,  going  to  visit  the  Cholera  huts  in  the 
suburbs  of  Liverpool  (1866)  ? 

“ The  carriage  in  which  he  was,  was  pelted  with  mud 
by  the  Orange  mob,  because  ‘ sisters  ’ were  in  charge  of 
the  huts.  He  never  spoke  one  word  of  annoyance, 
‘It  is  all  in  the  day’s  work,’ — ‘We  must  take  it  as  it 
comes.’  When  the  Archdeacon  of  Liverpool  asked  the 
Clergy  of  Liverpool  to  express  their  disapproval,  some 
of  the  Orange  hue  said  that  they  really  could  not  do  so. 
The  Archdeacon  wisely  said,  if  there  was  a dissentient 
voice  he  would  withdraw  his  request,  and  withdraw  it 
he  did.  But  when  the  Bishop  met  the  same  Orange 
persons,  his  hand  was  as  freely  and  cordially  extended 
to  them  as  to  any  other.” 

In  1870,  he  estabhshed  in  the  Chester  Diocese  a 
‘ Diocesan  Conference^ — one  of  the  earliest  assemblies  of 
the  kind.  At  the  commencement  of  the  undertaking. 


28o 


William  Jacobson: 


[1870 


(writes  Mr.  Gamon  his  secretary),  “ he  insisted  on 
addressing  all  the  circulars  to  Clergy  and  Laity  with 
his  own  hand,  in  order  to  show  his  personal  interest 
in  the  enterprise.”  A revival  of  Kuridecanal  action 
throughout  the  diocese  had  preceded : and  a Finance 
Association"  took  its  rise  (in  1H73)  as  a direct  result. 
A movement  followed  for  establishing  a diocesan  ‘ House 
of  Mercy,"  and  for  promoting  purity  of  life.  At  the 
Bishop’s  suggestion  a ‘ Diocesan  Fund  for  the  augmentation 
of  inadequately  endoived  Benefices " was  founded  as  early 
as  1870,  whereby  93,250/.  was  contributed  to  the  endow- 
ment of  small  livings  in  the  diocese.  To  this  fund  he 
was  himself  a yearly  contributor  of  100/.  Under  the 
same  fostering  care  the  number  of  parish  churches  in 
the  Chester  diocese  increased  in  fifteen  years  from  36 5 to 
430, — a growth  almost  without  a parallel.  In  fact  it 
was  this^  together  with  the  rapid  increase  of  population, 
which  rendered  a separate  diocesan  organisation  for  the 
Lancashire  side  a matter  of  urgency.  The  diocese  of 
Liverpool  (created  in  1880)  was  the  consequence.  Due 
in  a great  degree  to  the  princely  munificence  and 
unfailing  zeal  of  Mr.  John  Torr,  it  was  also  in  its  actual 
form  the  result  of  Bishop  Jacobson’s  wise  counsels  and 
matured  experience.  The  first  founded  diocese  of  the 
four  for  which  the  Bishoprics  Bill  of  1878  made  pro- 
vision, its  speedy  formation  was  largely  due  to  the 
personal  encouragement  which  the  Bishop  of  Chester 
gave  to  the  movement,  (though  he  was  never  enthusiastic 
about  it,)  and  to  the  example  set  by  his  munificent 
contribution  (viz.  loool.)  towards  the  endowment.  “ His 
consent  could  never  be  obtained  to  the  creation  of  a 
see  for  Liverpool,  if  incorporation  with  the  Isle  of  Man, 
in  the  prospect  of  annexing  its  episcopal  revenues,  were 
the  condition.  He  regarded  that  marriage  as  of  evil 


1872]  The  Single-minded  Bishop, 


281 


omen,  in  which  the  husband  counts  the  wife’s  dowry  as 
a chief  attraction.”  ^ 

While  speaking  of  the  good  work  achieved  for  the 
Northern  Province  during  the  episcopate  of  Bp.  Jacob- 
son, a scheme  for  Training  for  Holy  Orders  hy  Lectures  and 
TarocJiial  work  in  Liverpool^  in  connexion  with  the  Universities 
of  Oxford  and  Cambridge'^'  which  was  organized  in  1872, — 
claims  honourable  notice.  In  his  Charge  of  1874,  the 
Bishop  announced  that  “ during  the  last  two  years 
attempts  had  been  deliberately  and  vigorously  made” 
in  this  direction.  Courses  of  Lectures  had  been  estab- 
lished on  subjects  most  likely  to  be  interesting  and 
useful  to  Candidates  for  admission  to  Holy  Orders : and 
a great  variety  of  work  for  Lay  Readers  had  been 
abundantly  provided.  In  his  Charge  of  November  1877, 
he  rejoiced  in  the  very  satisfactory  progress  which  had 
attended  the  undertaking.  As  a matter  of  fact,  up  to 
March  1878,  33  members  of  the  Universities  of  Oxford 
and  Cambridge  had  gone  up  to  Liverpool  as  Lay  Helpers 
for  longer  or  shorter  periods  : of  whom  8 were  ordained 
to  Curacies  in  Liverpool,  and  2 to  Curacies  in  other  parts 
of  the  Chester  diocese.  It  cannot  be  doubted  that  the 
scheme  was  a wise  one.  The  zeal  of  our  people  for 
promoting  good  work  is  only  to  be  known  by  submitting 
to  them  schemes  of  virtuous  enterprise,  and  earnestly 
inviting  their  cooperation : and  an  appeal  to  the  youth 
of  our  Universities  was  never  yet  known  to  fail  in 
obtaining  a generous  response. 

His  triennial  ‘ Charges^  of  which  he  delivered  five,®  are 
among  the  most  interesting  and  valuable  compositions  of 
the  kind  I ever  read : especially,  I think,  his  Charge  at 

^ From  Archd.  Bardsley.  See  below,  p.  303-4,  note  (3). 

® Oct.  1868-71:  Nov.  1874-7-80. 


282 


William  Jacobson: 


[1872 


his  primary  Visitation,  October  1868, — which,  more  than 
the  others,  recalls  his  Prayer-book  teaching:  e.g.  pages 
10  and  27-8,  and  the  notes  E to  K in  the  Appendix. 
The  remarks  on  'Ritualism'  (pp.  29-35), — on  the  ‘LoeRs 
Supper  ’ (pp.  35-9)) — oil  ‘tlio  ' Atlianasian  CreecV  (pp.  39-44), 
— and  on  ‘ TFoman's  work  ’ (pp.  44-6), — are  singularly 
admirable  and  important.  When  he  points  out,  as  a 
thing  to  be  regretted,  the  looseness  of  “ the  heading 
of  one  of  the  Columns  in  our  Register  Book  of 
Baptisms,  where  we  have  'By  whom  the  Ceremony  was 
gjerformed,'  instead  of  what  we  ought  to  have  had, — 
‘ By  whom  the  Sacrament  was  administer ed^  ” ® — he  reminds 
one  of  a style  of  remark  peculiarly  his  own.  When  he 
cites  Daniel  Wilson,  Bp.  of  Calcutta,  as  an  authority  for 
holding  that  “ to  teach  Christianity  without  Catechisms, 
Forms,  and  Creeds  is  impossible,’”^ — he  illustrates  his 
singular  adroitness  in  quoting  with  effect  very  weighty 
sayings  from  somewhat  unexpected  quarters. 

In  accordance,  it  is  thought,  with  the  counsel  of  Abp. 
Longley,  Bp.  Jacobson  used  always  to  give, — or  rather, 
to  intend  to  give, — the  same  Confirmation  Address.  But 
variations  gradually  made  their  way  into  it,  until,  (in 
the  words  of  his  Chaplain),  “ one  wondered  how  long  it 
had  retained  its  personal  identity.” 

Every  one  who  has  tried  to  draw  Bishop  Jacobson’s 
character  is  observed  to  use  strictly  similar,  even  identi- 
cal, expressions.  One  of  his  Chaplains^  considered  “that 
the  prosperity  and  peace  of  the  diocese  throughout  his 
time  were  owing  mainly  to  the  firm  belief  which  pre- 
vailed universally  that  he  would  most  surely  do  justice 
and  judgment  to  every  one.”  And  so  he  did.  He  was 
no  ‘ respecter  of  persons.’  He  was  also  the  last  to  heed 

® p.  14.  ^Charge,'  1874, — p.  18.  ® Canon  Gray. 


1872]  The  Single-minded  Bishop.  283 

the  popular  outcry  ad  leones^  raised  by  a party  in  the 
Church  against  an  unpopular  section  of  it,  however  un- 
congenial to  himself  the  method  of  that  section  might 
happen  to  be, — however  offensive  their  attitude  and 
bearing.  Thus,  he  had  scarcely  held  office  for  twelve 
months,  when  128  of  the  Clergy  of  Chester  and  its  neigh- 
bourhood memorialized  him  on  the  subject  of  ‘ Ritualism.’ 
He  replied,  that  no  good  could  result  from  any  exertion 
of  authority  which  could  not  be  sustained  by  Law  : that 
local  circumstances  admitted  of  various  degrees  of  em- 
bellishment in  the  public  Services,  so  long  as  they  were 
not  employed  to  symbolize  doctrines  repudiated  by  the 
Church  of  England ; and  that,  while  he  had  no  sympathy 
with  ceremonial  innovations,  if  the  Law  was  to  be  in- 
voked for  the  suppression  of  errors  on  the  side  of  excess, 
it  must  be  expected  that  strict  conformity  to  the  Rubric 
would  be  insisted  upon,  wherever  variations  or  omis- 
sions in  any  of  the  Offices  of  the  Church  had  come  to 
have  the  sanction  of  custom.  In  other  words,  he 
reminded  the  most  violent  of  the  opponents  of  ‘Ritual- 
ism,’ that  even-handed  justice  might  possibly  have 
something  reproachful  to  say  to  certain  of  themselves. 
Truth  constrains  me  to  record  that  the  Bishop’s  indul- 
gence towards  the  law-breakers  of  the  Romanizing  party 
was  by  them  in  certain  instances  shamefully  ill  requited. 
I am  aware  of  only  one  occasion  when  a firm  reminder 
to  the  offending  Clerk  of  his  Ordination  vow  (“  reverently 
to  obey  his  Ordinary,”  &c.),  was  attended  by  the  wished- 
for  result. 

The  habit  of  his  mind  was  to  balance  with  judicial 
severity  Scripture  against  Scripture.  “We  all  do  that,” 
— I shall  be  told.  Yes,  but  he  did  it  more  than  most 
men.  His  words,  and  the  way  he  spoke  them,  often 


284 


William  Jacobson: 


[1872 


struck  me  very  forcibly.  “ They  don’t  find  that  in  the 
Bible,”  he  would  exclaim,  with  a little  shake  of  his  head. 
Speaking  of  vows  of  celibacy, — That  is  wanting  to 
be  wiser  than  God.”  Once,  when  I had  been  talking 
about  that  unworthy  view  of  the  Holy  Eucharist  which, 
— on  the  plea  that  our  Saviour  said  also,  ‘ I am  the  Vine^ 
‘ the  IF ‘ the  Door  I will  see  no  mystery  in  the  words  of 
Consecration, — “ Those  men,”  he  exclaimed  impatiently, 
“ do  not  attend  to  what  S.  Paul  says  about  ‘ not  consider- 
ing the  Lobd's  Body!  ” 

He  was  singularly  jealous  of  any  thing  that  trenched 
upon  the  doctrine  of  the  Intermediate  State.  Bishop 
Walsham  How  relates  that  “when  ^Church  Hymns’  was 
being  prepared  by  the  ‘ Society  for  Promoting  Christian 
Knowledge,’  the  Bishop,  as  one  of  the  Episcopal  referees, 
pronounced  strongly  against  the  fifth  verse  of  Bishop 
Wordsworth’s  noble  hymn,  Hlark!  the  sound  of  holy 
voices!  as  ignoring  it.  The  Bishop  of  Lincoln  was 
asked  to  allow  the  omission  of  this  verse  ; but  this  he 
declined  to  do,  explaining  it  as  a vision  of  heavenly 
bliss,  not  intended  to  contradict  the  doctrine  of  the 
Intermediate  State.  I then  (as  one  of  the  compilers  of 
the  hymn-book)  saw  Bishop  Jacobson  and  asked  him  to 
waive  his  objection,  giving  him  the  author’s  explana- 
tion. His  answer  was  simply, — ‘ I will  do  nothing 
to  obscure  the  doctrine  of  an  Intermediate  State.’  — He 
alludes  to  this  matter  in  one  of  his  Charges  : — 

“ Clearly  understood,  distinctly  held,”  (he  says)  “ this 
article  of  our  belief — (‘  He  descended  into  helV) — of  course 
shuts  out  the  notion  that  the  instant  a Christian  soul 
leaves  the  body  it  passes  at  once  to  Heaven,  that  is,  to 
its  ‘ perfect  consummation  and  bliss,’  the  beatific  vision. 
A notion  widely  prevalent  amongst  us,  fostered  hy  the 

® ‘ Guardian! — Aug.  13,  1884. 


1872]  The  Single-minded  Bishop.  285 

ill-considered  and  unguarded  language  of  hymns  otherwise 
deservedly  popular ; but,  for  all  its  prevalence,  as  un- 
founded as  was  that  of  the  immediate  proximity  of  the 
Last  Day  in  the  lifetime  of  the  Apostles.” 

Jacobson  made  the  doctrine  of  the  Intermediate  State 
the  subject  of  a sermon  published  in  1872, — an  interest- 
ing, but  singularly  guarded  utterance.  His  Examining 
Chaplain  relates  that, — “ when  some  of  us  were  talking 
before  him  of  a catch-penny  book  called  * The  Boor  agar  I 
(professing  to  give  glimpses  of  those  in  the  other  world,) 
— he  broke  into  our  conversation,  saying,  ‘ I firmly 

believe  that  that  door  is  hermetically  sealed.’  ” 

Dean  Howson  relates  that  “if  there  was  an  Offertory 
without  a Communion,  he  always,  (in  reading  the 
Prayer  for  the  Church  Militant),  used  the  full  prescribed 
phrase — ‘ alms  a7id  oblations! — He  rigorously  stood  at  the 
North  end  of  the  Holy  Table  (which  he  always  named 
thus)  during  consecration  at  the  Eucharist.  In  speaking 
of  this  subject,  he  was  scrupulous  to  employ  the 
customary  word  ‘ Administration  ’ instead  of  the  excep- 
tional word  ‘ Celebration  ’ ; — and  in  his  consumption 
of  any  remaining  part  of  the  consecrated  elements  at 
the  close,  he  stood  and  never  knelt.  . . . He  used  to  insist 
that  the  surplice  is  essentially  a vestis  talaris  .... 
When  he  edited  the  Liturgical  Fragments  of  Bishop 
Sanderson  and  Bishop  Wren,^  it  was  hoped  that  the 
volume  would  have  a copious  preface.  This  hope  was 
disappointed.  Such  notes,  however,  of  Bishop  Jacob- 
son’s as  are  given  in  the  book  are  highly  useful  and 
significant.”.  . . So  far,  the  late  Dean  of  Chester. 

Let  me  not  fail  to  give  prominence  to  one  feature  of 
my  friend’s  character  which  was  as  striking  as  any  that 
^ See  below,  page  289. 


286 


William  Jacobson  : 


[1875 

can  be  named.  1 refer  to  his  firmness.  Early  in  his 
Oxford  career,  examining  at  Rugby,  it  fell  to  him  to 
set  a paper  on  the  Epistle  to  the  Romans.  Bunsen 
went  to  his  room  overnight  and  begged  to  see  it,  and 
was  greatly  interested.  For  this  paper  some  of  the 
senior  boys  had  made  very  careful  preparation.  When, 
in  the  morning,  he  asked  for  the  boys’  answers  at  the 
appointed  time,  a universal  groan  arose,  with  such  a 
petition  for  half-an-hour  more,  that  he  could  not  refuse. 
Arnold  thought  this  would  interfere  with  the  solemn 
meeting  of  the  Governors,  due  soon  after ; waxed  angry, 
and  took  no  pains  to  hide  his  displeasure.  But  Jacob- 
son was  firm  on  the  boys’  behalf,  and  won  the  day. 
They  were  allowed  the  time  they  asked  for.  Soon  after- 
wards, Arnold  wrote  to  Jacobson  to  offer  him  a master- 
ship at  Rugby.  His  Chaplain  writes, — 

“ Slow  as  he  was  in  balancing  the  claims  of  duties 
upon  him,  when  once  he  had  made  up  his  mind,  he  was 
inflexible.  There  were  once  many  applicants  for  the 
Curacy  of  Ewelme  ; and  having  weeded  them  down  to 
two,  he  weighed  with  himself  the  merits  of  these  two 
through  a long  morning.  Just  as  he  had  addressed 
a letter  offering  the  Curacy  to  one,  the  door-bell  rang 
and  the  other  appeared.  ‘ Many  men,’  (he  remarked 
when  relating  the  incident),  ‘ would  have  taken  this  as  a 
sign  to  correct  the  choice.’  ‘ And  perhaps,’  (I  replied,) 
‘ they  would  not  have  been  wrong.’  ‘ But,’  (he  went  on,) 
‘ I did  not  think  so,  and  having  signed  and  sealed  the 
letter  I felt  bound  to  send  it,  and  I never  repented  it.’ 
It  was  sent  to  the  good  Gillam.^ 

“ I remember  his  coming  down  one  morning  and 
saying  to  us,  (his  Examining  Chaplains),  of  a Candidate 
for  Holy  Orders, — ‘ I have  been  lying  awake  through 
the  night  sorely  exercised  in  my  mind  about  young 
.’  It  was  hard  work  indeed  to  persuade  him  most 


^ See  above,  p.  267,  note  (7). 


287 


1877]  The  Single-minded  Bishop. 

reluctantly  to  consent  to  the  young  man’s  rejection. 
But  when  the  Candidate,  on  its  announcement  by  one 
of  the  Chaplains,  made  his  way  to  appeal  to  the  Bishop 
in  his  garden,  he  was  summarily  dismissed  with  a few 
decisive  words,  giving  him  no  idea  of  the  earnestness 
with  which  his  judge  had  just  been  pleading  his  cause. 
He  might  as  well  have  appealed  to  the  garden- wall. 

“ There  were  however  very  few  failures  in  the  Chester 
Examinations.  A preliminary  examination  by  one  of 
the  Chaplains  staved  off  the  very  doubtful,  and  worse 
than  doubtful,  cases.  The  Bishop  liked  to  see  all  the 
Papers  himself,  and  when  notes  were  compared,  his 
judgment  was  almost  always  found  to  be  the  most 
lenient.  ‘ I think,  my  lord,  that  this  is  as  bad  a paper 
as  can  be.’  ‘ O no  indeed, — indeed  I have  seen  ’worse.’ 
— When  it  was  pressed  upon  him  that  a Candidate 
needed  something  like  a severe  admonition,  I suspect 
that  he  usually  gave  one  of  the  ‘ soft  rebukes,  in 
blessings  ended  ’ ; turning  at  last  to  something  note- 
worthy in  the  Book  of  Common  Prayer.”  ...  So  far. 
Canon  Gray. 

Truth, — if  the  man’s  character  must  be  expressed  in 
a single  word, — Truth  was  the  quality  which  chiefly 
coloured  all  Dr.  Jacobson’s  words  and  actions : was  the 
very  mainspring,  so  to  express  oneself,  which  actuated 
everything  he  thought,  or  said,  or  did.  Out  of  this 
strong  root  may  be  said  to  have  grown  all  those  many 
acts  and  habits  which  so  much  endeared  him  to  all  who 
knew  him.  Striking  it  is  in  his  latest  Charge  (1877)  fo 
meet  with  words  apt  as  the  following.  (They  relate  to 
the  duty  of  “ contending  earnestly  for  the  faith  once  for 
all  delivered  to  the  Saints,”  and  enforce  Truth  as  the 
only  possible  basis  of  Unity)  : — 

“ Let  us  never  forget  that  the  holy  bond  of  Peace,  and 
Faith,  and  Charity,  has  the  holy  bond  of  Truth  for  its 
basis.  The  ‘Spirit  of  Truth’  stands  foremost  in  our 


288 


William  Jacobson: 


[1877 

intercession  for  the  universal  Church : it  comes  before 
‘ the  spirit  of  Unity  and  Concord.’  ‘ Agreement  in  the 
trzitJi  of  God’s  Holy  Word’  is  the  only  safe  and  sure 
stepping-stone  to  bring  in  ‘ Unity  and  Godly  love.’  ” — 
(p.  35.) . . . [The  italics  and  marks  of  quotation,  are  mine.] 

Of  Bp.  Jacobson’s  admirable  triennial  ‘ Charges’  I have 
already  spoken  briefly.  They  abound  in  weighty  passages 
which  forcibly  recall  their  author.  Devoutly  is  it  to  be 
wished  that  the  Clergy  of  other  dioceses  besides  his 
own  would  lay  to  heart  his  remarks  on  the  shortening  of 
the  Services  according  to  the  ^ Act  of  Uniformity  Amendment 
Act,’  1872.  They  occur  in  his  last  Charge  to  his  un- 
divided diocese  in  1877  ; — 

“ The  Bill  ” (says  the  Bishop)  “ is  only  permissive  in 
principle  and  in  details,  and  I should  myself  shrink  from 
the  omission  of  a Lesson  or  a Canticle.  It  may  be 
doubted  whether,  in  adopting  the  provisions  of  the  Act 
of  Parliament  as  largely  and  as  uniformly  as  some  have 
done,  the  Clergy  have  not  outstripped  the  wishes  of  the 
Laity.  Our  brothers  and  sisters  in  humbler  life,  who 
cannot  take  their  part  in  public  worship  without  some 
effort  and  preparation,  find  it  hardly  worth  while  to  leave 
their  homes  and  go  to  Church  for  less  time  than  an  un- 
abridged service  occupies.” 

He  published  besides,  in  1872,  a sermon  on  ^Cathedral 
Restoration’  and  another  on  '‘Deaconesses  and  their  Work,’ — 
‘ preached  at  the  Kecognition  ’ observe,’  writes  his 
Chaplain,  ‘ the  caution  of  this  word ! ’)  ‘ of  a Deaconess, 
in  the  Church  of  S.  Thomas,  Eccleston,  S.  Helen’s.’ 
His  sermon  on  ‘ the  Intermediate  State’  (which  reached  a 
fourth  edition  in  1881), — and  another,  preached  at  the 
Institution  of  the  Kector  of  Nantwich, — together  with  his 
valuable  Speech  in  the  Convocation  of  York  (Feb.  21st) 

‘ On  the  Athanasian  Creed’ — all  three  belong  to  this  same 
year,  1872. 


289 


1874]  The  Single-minded  Bishop. 

I have  further  to  record  that  in  1874  Jacobson  edited 
some  very  interesting  ^Fragmentary  Illusiratmis  of  the 
History  of  the  Book  of  Coymnon  Prayer  from  manuscript 
sources  ; ’ the  actual  Authors  being  respectively  ‘ Bishop 
Sanderson  [pp.  3-40]  and  Bishop  Wren  [pp.  45-109].’ 
These  fill  a hundred  pages, — to  which  are  prefixed  barely 
eight  pages  [pp.  v-xii]  of  introductory  matter  by  the 
Editor.  We  desiderate  more.  Nay,  more  is  absolutely 
required.  Those  precious  fragmentary  remains  of  two 
illustrious  xviith  century  Divines  are  almost  an  enigma 
as  they  stand ; — an  enigma  which  the  provincial  imprint, 
(for  the  little  volume  was  printed  at  Chester),  helps  to 
account  for,  but  does  not  entirely  solve.  It  is  to  be  pre- 
sumed that  the  Editor  was  too  busy  to  illustrate  and 
comment  upon  these  liturgical  curiosities. 

Of  far  greater  value  and  importance  are  the  ‘ Annota- 
tions on  the  Acts  of  the  Apostles  ’ which  Bp.  Jacobson 
contributed  to  the  ’‘Speaker  s Commentary!  The  volume  in 
which  they  are  found  did  not  appear  till  1880, — but,  (as 
any  one  may  see  at  a glance,)  they  are  the  leisurely 
work  of  a much  earlier  period  of  W.  J.’s  life.  They 
had  grown  on  his  hands,  and  are  the  thoughtful  jottings 
of  many  years.  I learn  that  he  used  to  carry  those 
Notes  with  him  to  and  from  Ewelme,  in  the  pleasant 
days  of  1848-65; — think  them  over, — add  to  them. 
The  result  is  that  they  are  a genuine  contribution  to 
our  existing  materials  for  a critical  study  of  the  Acts  : 
frequently  supplying  what  is  not  to  be  met  with  else- 
where.— And  here  I must  turn  away  from  this  dear  friend 
as  a student.  It  is  as  the  earnest  and  anxious  adminis- 
trator of  a somewhat  neglected  Northern  Diocese  that 
he  will  henceforth  come  before  us. 

It  is  proper  however  in  this  place  to  mention  that 

VOL.  II.  u 


290 


William  Jacobson: 


[1S73 

the  Bishopric  of  Winchester,  soon  after  it  had  become 
vacant  by  the  calamitous  death  of  Samuel  Wilberforce 
(19th  July,  1873),  was  offered  to  William  Jacobson. 
From  a comparison  of  dates,  it  is  found  that  the  moment 
was  one  of  singular  bitterness  to  him.  He  had  recently, 
(viz.  on  the  22nd  July,)  lost  his  daughter  Eleanor, — born 
Dec.  nth,  1841  . . . “Within  three  weeks  of  the  voidance 
of  the  see,”  (writes  a friend),^ — 

“ I called  upon  the  Bishop  at  Harrogate,  with  a present 
of  the  celebrated  Whixley  black  cherries.  His  pen  was 
in  his  hand,  but  he  gave  me  that  peculiar  nod  with  his 
eye,  (if  I may  so  express  myself,)  and  the  usual  smile, 
and  as  soon  as  he  had  finished  the  address  he  was  writ- 
ing, put  down  his  pen  and  came  forward. — I was  allowed 
to  joke  with  him,  and  soon  said,  ‘ How  long  before  you  go 
to  Winchester  ? ’ — ‘I  have  declined  it,  and  the  refusal  is  in 
the  envelope  I was  addressing  when  you  entered.’  (Of 
course  I had  not  seen  any  statement  to  this  effect.)  He 
said  he  could  not  at  his  time  of  life  undertake  the  keep- 
ing up  of  a London  house,  and  preferred  remaining  where 
he  was.” 

Here  then  let  room  be  found  for  a few  notices  of  the 
Jlpiscopal  side  of  Bishop  Jacobson’s  character.  Though 
by  no  means  wanting  in  a due  appreciation  of  the  dignity 
of  his  office, — (I  know  by  his  conversation  before  he 
became  a Bishop,  how  highly  he  esteemed  it), — he  was 
the  humblest  of  prelates.  His  secretary,  Mr.  John 
Gamon, — (who  enjoyed  his  fullest  confidence,  and  was 
treated  by  him  at  all  times  almost  as  if  he  had  been  his 
son), — has  the  same  remark,  with  which  I began,  though 
he  puts  the  matter  (very  admirably)  the  other  way : — 

“ With  the  deepest  personal  humility  he  never  lost 
sight  of  the  responsibilities  of  his  high  position  and  was 
always  and  everywhere  with  dignity  ‘ The  Bishop,’ — who 

^ Kev.  W.  Valentine, — of  Whixley,  ist  Aug.  1884. 


i88o]  The  Single-minded  Bishop, 


291 

was  revered  and  loved,  and  whose  fatherly  counsel  and 
judgment,  even  those  who  differed  from  him  in  opinion, 
never  failed  to  respect.” 

But  then  he  never  gave  himself  any  airs : was  without 
conceit  or  secular  pride.  On  the  contrary : while  stren- 
uous that  all  his  Officials  should  do  their  duty,  he  was  in 
effect  the  chief  servant  of  all  his  Clergy, — unwearied  in 
labour  for  their  sakes.  On  more  than  one  occasion  he 
is  known  to  have  accompanied  a candidate  for  Ordina- 
tion in  his  hunt  for  a lodging, — the  man  having  arrived 
late  and  made  his  way  to  the  palace,  assuming  that  he 
was  to  be  the  Bishop’s  guest. — On  coming  to  the  diocese, 
with  the  option  of  a pleasanter  place  of  residence,  he 
selected  Deeside,  within  the  City  of  Chester,  in  order 
that  he  might  he  accessible  at  all  times  to  all ; and  neither 
be  constrained  to  keep  a carriage  himself,  nor  be  the  occa- 
sion that  his  Clergy  should  be  made  to  incur  inconvenient 
expense  in  order  to  obtain  an  interview. — It  is  believed 
that  he  never  once  opened  his  lips  in  the  House  of 
Lords. — On  the  title-page  of  his  ‘Charges’  &c.,  he  in- 
variably designated  himself ; — “ William  Jacohso?i, 

Bishop  of  Chester r No  more.  He  dated  his  letters  from 
‘ Deeside.”  (There  was  no  talk  of  “ the  Palace.”) — His 
coffin-plate  was  merely  inscribed, — “ William  Jacobson, 
nineteen  years  a Bishop  in  the  Church  of  Gob,  in  the 
Biocese  of  Chester,  diedf  &c.  (No  mitre  was  indicated.) 
— In  compliance  with  his  expressed  wishes,  there  was  a 
marked  absence  of  anything  like  pomp  at  his  funeral. — 
He  sleeps  in  death,  not  attired  in  his  Episcopal  dress,  but 
in  his  surplice. — “Very  touching  was  it,” — (remarked 
Canon  Gray  in  the  Cathedral  on  the  ensuing  Sunday) — 
“to  see  his  coffin  resting  for  a while  in  that  Chapel 
which  he  himself  had  delighted  to  build  to  the  honour  of 
his  Lokd  ; and  in  which  some  of  us  had  so  often  liked  to 


William  Jacobson: 


292 


[1880 


believe  that  we  learned  more  of  his  inner  life  from  the 

very  sound  of  his  voice,  and  emphasis  of  his  words 

To  hear  him  read  the  Psalms,  was  in  itself  a com- 
mentary on  them.”^ 

“ The  simplicity  of  his  life,”  (remarks  his  Secretary,^) 
“ with  its  regularity  and  painstaking  exactitude  in  the 
smallest  duties,  influenced  all  who  came  in  contact  with 
him  ; and  it  is  by  his  example,  more  than  by  his 
precepts,  that  he  will  be  most  lovingly  remembered.” 
The  same  gentleman  declares  that  his  concern  and 
consideration  for  his  Clergy,  his  sympathy  with  every 
earnest  worker  among  them,  was  unbounded : and 
that  this  displayed  itself  in  the  smallest  matters. 

“His  judgment  of  men  was  admirable,— very  seldom 
at  fault ; and  the  happiness  of  his  administration  was 
largely  due  to  this.  He  knew  how  to  select,  from  among 
those  around  him,  the  man  for  any  particular  work 
or  duty.  Ketaining  always  the  direction  in  his  own 
hands,  he  never  could  be  truly  said  to  be  under  the 
influence  of  any  one. 

“ Chiefly  was  this  noticeable  in  his  administration  of 
his  Church  Patronage.  The  selection  of  his  men  for 
promotion  he  kept  most  jealously  to  himself ; and  though 
ready  to  hear  all  representations  on  this  point,  and 
encouraging  frankness  in  any  whom  he  considered 
justifled  in  bringing  such  matters  to  his  notice,  every 
appointment  was  on  his  own  deliberate  judgment.  On 
more  than  one  occasion,  the  appointment  of  his  eldest 
son,  ® (then  suffering  from  overwork  in  the  East  of 


* Chester, — July  22nd,  1884. 

® John  Gamon,  esq.,  Eegistrar  of 
the  Diocese. 

® William  Bowstead  Eichards 
Jacobson  [born  Aug.  3rd,  1840,  died 
April  26th,  1880],  went  up  to 
Ch.  Ch.  with  a Scholarship  from 
Winchester : rowed  in  ‘ the  Univer- 
sity Eight’;  took  a 3rd  class,  and 


was  ordained  in  1864  to  the  curacy 
of  S.  George’s,  Bloomsbury.  Thence, 
he  went  to  S.  Mary’s,  Charter 
House.  His  health  gave  way  under 
excessive  devotion  to  his  Master’s 
service,  and  the  sincerest  self-sacri- 
fice. He  sank  in  consumption, 
leaving  a widow  and  two  little 
daughters. 


i88o]  The  Single-minded  Bishop. 


293 


London,)  to  a charge  in  the  Diocese,  was  urged  upon 
him ; but  he  would  not  listen  to  it,  considering  it  a bad 
example  and  beyond  the  terms  of  his  trust.” 

It  would  be  an  omission  to  conclude  this  sketch 
without  adverting  to  two  conspicuous  features  of  Bishop 
Jacobson’s  character,  about  which  I have  hitherto  said 
nothing.  One,  was  the  munificence  of  his  disposition. 
He  acted  as  if  he  were  the  trustee  only^  of  the  revenues 
of  his  see.  The  Chapel  of  his  episcopal  residence  at 
Deeside,  which  involved  an  outlay  of  1300/.,  he  erected 
at  his  own  expense  ; and  bequeathed, — like  his  Library, 
which  was  worth  about  half  that  sum, — to  his  successors. 
Those  books,  by  the  way,  I learn  that  Bp.  Stubbs  (with 
characteristic  kindness)  keeps  distinct  from  his  own, — 
leaves  them  standing,  in  short,  where  and  as  their  recent 
possessor  left  them.  Bishop  Jacobson’s  munificent  con- 
tribution to  the  endowment  of  the  see  of  Liverpool  has 
been  already  mentioned ; as  well  as  to  the  fund  for  the 
augmentation  of  small  Benefices  in  his  diocese, — viz.  in 
page  280.  When  Dean  Howson  proposed  to  restore 
Chester  Cathedral,  the  Bishop  insisted  on  contributing 
^ool.  to  the  same  object. 

“ He  took  the  utmost  interest  in  our  evening  Services,” 
(writes  the  Dean,)  “ and  insisted  to  the  very  last  on 
paying  an  annual  subscription  to  the  fund  required  for 
their  maintenance.  A very  short  time  before  his  death, 
having  heard  about  certain  improvements  near  the 
Cathedral  in  which  I took  great  interest,  he  asked  me 
how  much  I contributed.  On  hearing  my  answer,  he 
said,  ‘ Then  I think  I ought  to  give  twice  as  much.’ 
This  was  done.” 

His  private  acts  of  bounty  in  the  diocese  were  without 
number.  One  of  “ those  who  stood  around  his  bier 
beneath  the  old  Norman  arches  of  S.  John’s,  Chester, 


294 


William  Jacobson: 


[1880 

and  then  followed  him  to  his  ivy-clad  grave  beyond  the 
Dee,” — reasonably  dwells  on  the  fact  that  there  were 
besides,  “ countless  acts  of  private  benevolence,  when 
sorrow  and  death  visited  the  houses  of  his  Clergy, 
known  only  to  Heaven  and  to  those  who  shared  his 
bounty.”  ^ 

The  other  feature  of  character  which  claims  definite 
notice  was  the  extreme  affectionateness  of  his  nature.  He 
so  abhorred  saying  more  than  he  felt  that  he  invariably 
felt  a vast  deal  more  than  he  said.  Display  and  pro- 
fession were  so  hateful  to  him  that  he  made  no  pro- 
fessions at  all,  nor  ever  displayed  publicly  the  actual 
warmth  and  tenderness  of  his  disposition.  But  he  was 
full  of  loving-kindness,  and  his  home  affections  altogether 
flowed  over.  Many  a time  has  he  come  across  to  my 
rooms  at  Oriel  for  the  sole  purpose  of  communicating  to 
me  the  last  droll  saying  of  one  of  his  children, — between 
all  of  whom  and  myself,  as  he  well  knew,  there  sub- 
sisted the  most  absurdly  intimate  relations.  “ What  do 
you  suppose  that  varlet  said  this  morning  ? ” ...  (It  was 
thus  that  he  commonly  prefaced  some  exceedingly 
grotesque  disclosure.)  ...  A more  devoted  Husband  and 
Father  never  lived ; nor  yet  a more  firm  and  sincerely 
faithful  friend. 

But  it  is  the  affectionateness  of  the  man’s  disposition  to 
which  I desire  to  direct  attention.  His  blunt,  straight- 
forward, and  somewhat  abrupt  manner  did  much  to 
conceal  this  feature  of  his  character.  But  it  always 
made  itself  felt  in  his  intercourse  with  others, — and  its 
very  nature  is  to  beget  affection  in  return.  His  Clergy 
recognized  this  trait  and  responded  warmly  to  it.  Very 
mindful  was  he  (writes  his  Archdeacon)  of — 

’ From  Archd.  Bardsley’s  Sermon, — Aug.  9,  1884. 


295 


i88o]  The  Single-minded  Bishop. 

“ those  who  had  spoken  the  Word  of  God  in  his  diocese. 
With  what  loving  regard  and  what  exquisite  tenderness 
did  he  record  their  names  when  the  ensuing  Visitation 
came  round ! The  words  still  linger  in  my  memory  with 
which,  ten  years  ago,  he  commemorated  an  aged  presbyter^ 
who  was  ‘admitted  to  Holy  Orders  in  1817,  and  became 
Vicar  of  Farn worth  in  1832.  A man  of  prayer,  and  apt 
to  teach,  for  forty  years  he  held  the  noiseless  tenor  of  his 
way,  abundant  in  all  the  labours  of  his  office,  till  the 
infirmities  of  his  increasing  years  (felt  by  him  rather 
than  observed  by  others)  induced  him  to  avail  himself  of 
the  Incumbent’s  Kesignation  Act.’  ” 

Of  the  profound  humility  of  Bp.  Jacobson’s  disposi- 
tion,— his  entire  simplicity  of  purpose^  and  transp^arent 
sincerity  in  all  he  said  and  did, — something  has  been 
offered  already.  This  aspect  of  his  character  it  was 
that  caused  him  to  be  so  greatly  loved,  as  well  as 
revered,  throughout  his  diocese.  He  was  known  also 
for  his  ready  discernment  of  merit  in  any  of  his  Clergy. 
His  examining  Chaplain,  Canon  Gray,  tells  me  that 
something  he  wrote  in  a quiet  parish  in  Lancashire, 
where  he  had  expected  to  do  all  his  work,  and  live  all 
his  life,  found  favour  in  the  Bishop’s  eyes  ; whereupon, — 

“he  called  me  to  his  side,  and  rapidly  allowed  me  to 
form  with  him  a friendship  which  I shall  ever  look  back 
upon  as  one  of  the  greatest  blessings  of  the  many  that 
have  fallen  to  my  lot.  I owe  to  him  more  than  words 
can  say.”  ® 

Eighteen  years  of  faithful  labour  thus  bore  good  and 
lasting  fruits,  and  that  without  friction  and  without 
bitterness.  It  was  acknowledged  throughout  the  diocese, 
— when,  in  the  beginning  of  1884,  growing  infirmity  con- 
strained Bishop  Jacobson  to  resign  his  office, — that  ^ the 

® The  Kev.  W.  Jeff, — ^ Charge 1874, — p.  3,  ® 7>  1884. 


2 96  Wtlliam  Jacobson:  [1880 

diocese  of  Chester  would  be  handed  over  to  his  successor 
with  its  organization  complete  in  every  part,  and  in  good 
order ; pervaded  with  a sincere  goodwill  towards  the 
Church  and  her  institutions,  and  with  a spirit  of  cordial 
co-operation  amongst  Church-people  of  all  ranks  and  all 
schools  of  thought.’  ^ 

One  who  furnished  us  above  (pp.  255-7)  with  some  re- 
miniscences of  the  Bishop  when  Vice-Principal  of  Mag- 
dalen Hall,  thus  concludes  his  narrative : — 

“ The  last  I saw  of  my  dear  old  friend  was  in  his 
Cathedral,  and  in  the  city  of  Chester.  The  great  even- 
ing Service  in  the  Cathedral,  with  the  whole  nave 
filled, — the  Choir  augmented  by  some  fifty  volunteers 
in  surplices,  and  worshippers  of  all  classes, — was  an 
evident  joy  and  satisfaction  to  him.  And  in  the  streets, 
respect  and  good  will  seemed  to  be  everywhere.  If  he 
had  attempted  to  return  the  salutes  which  he  received, 
he  might  as  well  have  walked  with  his  hat  in  his  hand. 
He  had  a nod,  a pleasant  look,  and  a ‘ How  d’ye  do  ? ’ for 
every  one, — just  as  of  old.” 

Throughout  his  latest  years,  in  conversation  with 
Canon  Gray,  the  loved  subject  of  these  pages  greatly  en- 
joyed reproducing  slumbering  recollections  of  his  early 
Oxford  life.  It  was  evident  that  his  mind  was  con- 
tinually going  back  with  fond  interest  to  the  long-since- 
vanished  Past.  I have  known  other  such  cases,  and 
have  read  of  more.^ 

He  always  seemed  to  have  clearly  before  his  eye  the 
persons  and  places  he  was  speaking  of;  and  to  rejoice  in 
reviving  their  memories  and  describing  them  yet  again 
to  himself: — Dr.  Rowley,  Master  of  University  [1821- 
36], — ‘ Mo  ’ Griffith  of  Merton, — an  official  visit  to  the 

^ From  the  Address  of  the  Clergy  ^ May  I be  excused  for  referring 

of  the  diocese  presented  to  Bishop  to  the  latter  days  of  Sir  James 
Jacobson  early  in  1884,  on  his  re-  Mackintosh  in  my  own  Life  of  P.  F. 
signation.  Tytler, — p.  37  [ist  ed.  p,  38.] 


The  Single-Funded  Bishop, 


297 


1880] 

Duke  of  Wellington, — Dean  Gaisford, — Dr.  Bull, — Dean 
Cyril  Jackson, — Bishop  Carey.  He  often  spoke  of  the 
pleasure  with  which  he  had  listened  to  the  wondrous 
viva  voce  Examination  of  the  present  Bishop  of  Chichester 
for  his  degree.  He  usually  prefaced  an  anecdote  by, — 

‘ You  knew  such  an  one  ? ’ But  it  was  of  course  quite 
immaterial  whether  I did  or  did  not.  Even  in  his 
anecdotes,— (to  which  most  of  us  like  to  affix,  as  Bos- 
well says,  ‘ a cocked  hat  and  walking  stick,  to  make  them 
fit  to  go  into  society,’) — he  showed  his  unswerving  love 
of  accuracy.  There  was  not  a grain  of  exaggeration  or 
caricature.  . . . Pleasant  indeed  was  it  to  listen  to  him 
in  the  dusk,  over  his  study-fire,  or  while  walking  with 
him  round  the  City  walls.” 

Does  the  reader  inquire  for  a specimen  of  those 
reminiscences?  Well,  but  thev  are  stories  of  that  kind 
which  are  indebted  for  their  charm  to  the  speaker’s 
living  voice  and  individual  manner.  Yes,  and  they  postu- 
late your  knowing  at  least  something  about  the  parties. 
Take  two  samples  however : — 

“Did  you  know  ‘Mo’  Griffith  of  Merton?” — (“No, 
but  I have  often  heard  of  him.”) — “ He  was  very  kind 
to  me.  I remember  his  once  showing  me  his  Library, 
and  asking  me  if  I had  a copy  of  this  or  that  book  ; and 
whenever  I said  ‘No,’  he  invariably  went  on, — ‘You 
surprise  me.  I cannot  understand,  sir,  how  you  have 
obtained  your  present  position  without  it ; you  must 
allow  me  to  make  you  a present  of  it.’  And  so  in  each 
case  he  did.  . . . He  once  was  complaining  to  Dr.  Mac- 
bride  on  the  fiatness  of  Oxford  life.  There  were  no 
‘ Characters'  now-a-days.  Macbride  answered, — “ Do  you 
know,  Griffith,  it  is  just  possible  that  some  people  may 
look  on  you  and  myself  as  characters  ? ” ^ 

^ The  Reverend  Edward  Griffith  He  had  an  instinctive  hatred  of 
[1769-1859],  Fellow  of  Merton,  is  all  jobbery  and  corrupt  grasping, 
remembered  by  old  Oxford  men  as  A true  benefactor  was  he  to  the 
one  of  the  most  eccentric  of  mortals.  College,  by  his  unsparing,  unceasing 
It  is  only  fair  to  add  that  he  was  exposure  of  certain  of  the  scandals 
also  one  of  the  most  upright.  of  his  early  days  : his  wonderful 


2Q8 


William  Jacobson: 


[1882 

“You  knew  Dr.  BulH”  . . . (“Yes : the  last  time  that 
I saw  him  was  in  a railway  carriage  when  he  was  on  his 
way  to  the  funeral  of  his  dear  friend,  Bishop  Carey.” 

“ Ah ! when  Cyril  Jackson  was  on  his  deathbed  he  sent 
for  Carey  and  said,  ‘ Carey,  the  Prince  of  Wales  has  just 
been  here  to  take  leave  of  me,  and  he  has  promised  to 
take  care  of  you ; and  now  you  must  promise  me  to  take 
care  of  Bull.’ — Bull  was  always  ready  with  his  joke.  I 


wit  securing  for  him  that  hearing 
which  tamer  denunciations  would 
have  been  powerless  to  command. 
He  had  moreover  the  kindest  heart, 
and  was  liberal,  even  to  profuseness, 
in  his  bounty. 

Generous  was  he  to  a fault. 
But,  as  already  stated,  he  was  cer- 
tainly one  of  the  oddest  of  man- 
kind. Elected  to  a Fellowship  in 
1 795,  he  was  to  be  found  at  Merton 
only  in  Long  Vacation,  because 
‘ the  boys  ’ were  then  away.  (He 
hated  ‘ the  boys.’)  . . . Bishop  Hob- 
house  (fellow  of  Merton  1841-59) 
writes, — “ Mo  Griffith  lived  till  he 
was  past  90.  I honour  the  old 
man,  and  wish  I could  hand  on 
some  of  his  best  sayings.  A genuine 
master  of  social  speech  was  he : 
but  he  is  so  indescribable,  because 
without  seeing  the  man,  it  is  im- 
possible that  any  one  should  enjoy 
his  jokes.”  . . . The  reader  may  like 
to  be  referred  to  a brief  notice  of 
him  in  vol.  i.  pp.  78-9. 

A yet  greater  oddity,  (if  that 
were  possible,)  was  old  Dr.  Frowd  of 
Corpus  ; whom  ‘ Mo  ’ Griffith  used 
to  delight  in  drawing  out,  and  play- 
ing off  in  public.  Jacobson  described 
to  me  a dinner-party  given  by  ‘Mo,’ 
to  which  Frowd  was  invited, — (as 
his  host  plainly  told  him), — for  the 
purpose  of  being  made  to  rehearse 
his  favourite  dramatic  piece,  the 
Bombardment  of  Algiers  by  his 


uncle  Lord  Exmouth, — who  took  his 
nephew  with  him  to  the  Mediter- 
ranean, as  Chaplain.  ‘ Mo  ’ trotted 
out  his  neighbour  to  his  own  heart’s 
content ; at  every  fi-esh  extrava- 
gance, waving  his  hand  and  ejacu- 
lating to  the  man  sitting  next  him, 
— (in  an  ‘ aside  ’ which  was  audible 
to  every  one  at  table), — “As  good 
as  a comedy,  sir ! as  good  as  a 
comedy!  ” 

Canon  Gray  adds,  of  his  own, 
the  following  interesting  details  : — 
“ Dr.  Vincent,  Head-master  of 
Westminster,  on  leaving  a country 
inn  where  he  had  been  getting 
some  lunch,  during  a walking  tour, 
was  followed  by  the  little  boy  who 
had  been  waiting  on  him,  calling 
after  him, — ‘ Sir,  sir,  you  have  for- 
gotten your  Horace.’  ‘And  how, 
my  little  boy,  did  you  know  it  was 
a Horace?’  The  conversation  which 
followed  ended  in  Dr.  Vincent 
taking  the  lad,  who  was  Carey,  to 
Westminster.  There,  Carey  went 
through  the  School,  leaving  it  as 
Captain  in  1789  for  Christ  Church ; 
and  to  it  he  returned  as  Head- 
master in  1803.  He  was  made 
Bishop  of  Exeter  in  1820.  He  be- 
queathed about  20,000?.,  for  the 
better  maintenance  of  Bachelor- 
Students  of  Ch.  Ch.,  elected  from 
Westminster,  and  ‘ having  their 
own  way  to  make  in  the  World  ’ . . . 
All  honour  be  to  his  memoi'y  1 ” 


1882]  The  Single-minded  Bishop.  299 

remember  when  Jenkyns  was  Vice-Chancellor,  some  of 
us  (with  him  on  business  at  the  Clarendon)  found  the 
door  of  our  room  locked.  Jenkyns  with  some  pomposity 
said  to  the  newly-appointed  Clerk  of  the  University, 
who  was  in  fault, — ‘ And  pray,  sir,  what  is  your  name  ? ’ 
‘ Purdue  ’ was  the  trembling  answer.  ‘ And  so  is  the 
key,’  said  Bull.” 

More  in  keeping  with  the  actual  context  will  be  the 
Canon’s  record  that, — 

“ In  his  last  illness,  on  his  sick  bed,  something  moved 
him  to  remember,  and  distinctly  repeat,  the  Latin  for- 
mula with  which,  in  the  days  when  the  life  of  Oxford  was 
bound  up  in  the  Church’s  life,  he  had  so  often  presented 
young  men  for  their  Degree ; declaring  that  each  of 
them  had  read  aloud  before  him,  or  had  heard  read,  the 
Thirty -nine  Articles,”  &c. 

“ His  scholarship  ” (remarks  the  late  Dean  Howson,) 
“was  minutely  accurate.  He  was  very  fastidious  in 
his  choice  and  collocation  of  words ; and  mistakes  in 
punctuation  never  escaped  him.  A strict  regard  to 
truth  was  apparent  in  his  patient  and  painstaking  work 
of  this  kind.”  Canon  Gray  furnishes  examples  : — 

“ He  would  not  let  one  use  the  expression,  ‘ I beg  to 
say,’  or  ‘ I beg  to  send,’  instead  of  ‘ I beg  leave  ’ to  do  so. 
He  demurred  (in  spite  of  oAry  ^ vTroKeLfjL^vr})  to  the  ex- 
pression ^ subject-matter'  \ saying  that  either  ‘subject’  or 
‘ matter  ’ by  itself  would  be  sufficient ; and  he  held 
in  especial  horror  the  modern  ‘ in  our  midst  ’ for  ‘ in  the 
midst  of  us.’  ” 

Enough  however  of  all  this.  In  recording  the  fact 
that  Dr.  Jacobson  was  invited  to  take  part  in  the 
‘ Bevision  ’ of  the  N.  T.,  but  declined, — I can  but  specu- 
late on  the  sturdy  resistance  which  that  most  ill-advised 
of  literary  adventures  would  have  experienced  in  every 
page,  had  he  consented  to  join  the  revising  body. 


300  William  Jacobson:  [1883 

The  closing  scene  is  always  sad.  About  two  years 
before  the  end  came,  he  had  caught  cold  in  his  cheek 
from  exposure  to  draught  in  a railway  carriage.  A 
glandular  swelling  supervened,  which — neglected  at  first 
— at  the  end  of  a few  months  assumed  a malignant 
character  and  became  unmanageable.  Ultimately  it 
occasioned  his  death.  I had  these  details  from  his  son 
Walter,^  who  added  high  professional  knowledge  to 
filial  devotion  to  his  dying  Father,  to  whom  he  was 
of  the  greatest  help  and  comfort. 

In  the  discharge  of  his  Episcopal  duties  Dr.  Jacobson 
had  been  throughout  most  efficiently  assisted  by  Bishop 
Kelly;  and  probably  no  Prelate  was  ever  more  loyally 
supported  by  his  chief  Clergy.  Besides  Dean  Howson 
and  the  Canons  of  his  Cathedral  city,  his  Archdeacons 
and  Chaplains  had  vied  with  one  another  in  lightening 
every  burden  of  his  office.  But  it  became  apparent  to 
all,  and  in  the  end  to  himself,  that  he  must  resign  to 
another  the  mild  sway  which  he  had  exercised  over  the 
diocese  for  upwards  of  18  years.  He  had  already  en- 
tered on  what  was  to  be  the  last  year  of  his  life, — 1884. 
On  February  2nd, — the  day  when  he  knew  that  his 
resignation  was  legally  accepted, — it  was  characteristic 
of  him  that  he  reverted  at  once  to  what  had  been 
his  former  way  of  signing  his  name, — ‘ W.  JacoBson.’ 
Reverence  for  his  Father’s  memory  originally  led  him 
to  adopt  his  Father’s  practice  in  this  respect : and  the 
Episcopal  restraint  of  nearly  nineteen  years  being  at 


5 W alter  Hamilton  Acland  J acob- 
son,  on  the  staff  of  Guy’s  Hospital, 
— b.  in  1847, — was  the  first  to  take 
the  new  degree  ‘Magister  in  Chi- 
rurgia]’  at  Oxford  (30  June,  1887). 
— Two  other  of  the  Bishop’s  sons 
survive  him : Charles  Longley,  b.  in 


1852,  who  is  in  a merchant’s  office, 
— and  Bobert  Charles,  b,  in  1855, 
who  is  Deputy  Inspector  of  Schools 
at  Penang.  Also  two  daughters, — 
Hester  Sterling,  and  Katharine 
Mary.  . . For  the  rest  of  his  ten  chil- 
dren, see  pp.  266,  290,  292. 


1883]  The  Single-minded  Bishop.  301 

last  removed,  it  was  the  ordinary  instinct  of  unchanged 
filial  piety  to  resume  the  habit  of  his  youth.  I learn 
that  he  persevered  in  it  “ till  the  dear,  feeble,  wasted 
fingers  could  no  longer  guide  his  pen.” 

His  decision  to  resign  was  made  rather  suddenly  at 
the  last.  To  his  vexation,  it  got  into  the  newspapers 
before  he  had  been  able  to  write  on  the  subject  to  his 
friends.  This  was  in  the  last  days  of  1883.  Happily, 
he  was  enabled  to  retain  his  Episcopal  residence  at  Dee- 
side,  and  his  mental  faculties  were  wholly  unimpaired. 
Anxiety  concerning  the  active  supervision  of  the  diocese, 
— which  had  weighed  powerfully  on  him  so  long  as  he 
was  actually  Bishop, — was  perforce  at  an  end.  But  his 
spirits  were  depressed.  It  was  the  consequence  of 
physical  infirmity. 

He  sank  ever  after, — slowly,  but  steadily.  He  knew 
that  his  days  were  numbered.  “ I live  in  Prayer,” — 
he  said  to  one  of  his  cathedral  Clergy.  . . . Within  a 
fortnight  of  his  departure,  in  reply  to  one  who,  from  the 
first  day  of  his  setting  foot  in  the  diocese,  had  been  his 
true  friend 'and  very  faithful  ally  (Canon  Hop  wood®), — 

No  pain,”  he  said:  “but  I suffer  from  extreme  weakness 
and  great  weariness.”.  . . His  emaciation  was  excessive. 
About  a week  before  his  death,  he  charged  his  eldest 
surviving  son  Walter, — that  his  funeral  should  be  marked 
by  the  utmost  possible  simplicity ; and,  notwithstanding 
that  he  had  precious  ties  at  Oxford  and  at  Ewelme,'^  he 
directed  that  he  should  be  laid  to  rest  in  the  cemetery 
of  Chester.  On  Saturday,  the  12th  July,  his  powers 
greatly  failed  him.  His  mind  however  continued  clear 
until  2 or  3 in  the  morning  of  Sunday,  when  he  was 
only  conscious  that  he  was  being  watched  over  by  his 

® Winwick, — 4th  July,  See  above,  p.  266. 


302  William  Jacobson:  [1884 

Wife.  And  so,  on  the  morning  of  the  blessed  day  of 
earthly  rest  (13th  July,  1884), — at  a few  minutes  before 
eight  o’clock, — he  entered  into  his  own  everlasting  rest ; 
having  completed  (within  five  days)  eighty-one  years  of 
virtuous,  GoD-fearing  life  ; during  the  last  nineteen  of 
which  he  had  shown  himself  the  most  “ single-minded” 
of  Prelates. 

It  were  an  omission  were  I to  fail  in  this  place  to 
make  some  mention  of  his  earnest  thankfulness  for  ser- 
vices rendered  him^ — a disposition  which  made  every  one 
who  had  it  in  his  power,  rejoice  to  do  him  service. 
“After  all,”  (writes  Dean  Howson,  and  with  these  words 
he  closes  his  remarks  on  Bishop  Jacobson,)  “the  great 
charm  of  his  character  was  his  humility.  I never  knew 
anything  more  touching  than  his  gratitude  for  the  most 
simple  attention  during  his  long  illness.  He  seemed  to 
think  that  he  was  quite  unworthy  even  of  this.” 

Here  also,  before  I lay  down  my  pen,  room  must  be 
found  for  two  lesser,  yet  highly  characteristic  traits, 
which  have  been  indicated  to  me  by  his  Wife.  The 
first, — “ His  repugnance  to  the  slightest  approach  to 
levity  in  quoting  from,  or  referring  to,  the  Scriptures. 
He  could  not  abide  it.”  The  second, — “ The  strong  censure 
with  which  he  always  visited  any  unhandsome  or  de- 
rogatory mention  of  the  Queen,  or  any  member  of  the 
Koyal  Family.  The  grave  expression  on  his  face,  and 
sometimes  the  short  telling  words  of  his  rebuke,  were 
things  not  to  be  forgotten.”  ^ 


For  many  days  after  the  first  slight  draft  of  the  present 
Memoir  appeared,  I received  from  his  Clergy  spon- 
^ Dec.  30th,  1884. — Obvious  it  is  to  recall  i Pet.  ii.  17. 


303 


1884]  The  Single-minded  Bishop. 

taneous  expressions  of  attachment  to  his  person,  some  of 
which  were  even  touching.  “ Sincere  in  every  word  he 
spoke, — honest  in  all  he  did,”  (writes  one  of  the  Cathe- 
dral body  “ in  favour  with  God  as  well  as  with  men  : 
a man  of  Truth : he  ever  effaced  himself,  and  was  the 
most  humble  man  I ever  knew.  He  did  not  know 
what  it  was  to  be  self-conscious.”.  . . “I  loved  him 
as  a Father,”  (wrote  his  Archdeacon  and  examining 
Chaplain  ^).  “ Indeed,  I need  not  use  the  past,  I 

ought  to  say  ‘ I love,’  for  that  bond  is  eternal.”.  . . . 
“Towards  myself,”  (wrote  James  Fraser,^  late  Bishop  of 
Manchester,)  “ever  since  I have  been  a Bishop,  he  has 
always  been  as  an  elder  brother.  I went  over  to  Chester 
to  see  him  and  get  his  blessing,  not  so  very  long  before 
he  died : and  it  was  beautiful  to  see  his  calm,  resigned 
temper.  I heard  a charming  passage  about  him  in  a 
sermon  preached  by  Archdeacon  Bardsley  on  Thursday 
last,  at  the  annual  meeting  of  the  Clergy  Charities  at 
Warrington.”  . . . “ Of  him”  (writes  the  Archdeacon), 

“ As  of  Bishop  Sanderson,  it  might  pleasantly  be  said, 
(in  the  words  of  Izaak  Walton,)  that  he  possessed  ‘ many 
happy  infirmities  ; ’ — infirmities,  for  in  men  placed  in 
high  estate  we  must  count  as  infirmities  the  singular 
humility  and  caution  which  restrain  the  self-assertion 
that  becomes  their  exalted  office ; and  yet  ‘ hap2:)y  in- 
fii*mities,’  since  they  commend  and  endear  the  possessors 
in  their  private  life  to  all  who  know  them. 

“ Coming  late  to  the  bench.  Bishop  Jacobson  never 
lost  sight  of  the  approaching  shadows  of  the  night, 
‘when  no  man  can  work,’  closing  around  him.  With 
characteristic  humility,  as  he  reviewed  his  past  epi- 
scopate, he  appropriated  the  words  of  Henry  Marty n, 
‘ The  more  I see  of  my  own  works,  the  more  I am 

8 Canon  Hillyard.  of  Chester, — July  31st,  1884. 

® J.  L.  Darby,  the  present  Dean  ^ To  myself, — Aug.  nth,  1884. 


304 


William  Jacobson. 


[1884 

ashamed  of  them.’^.  . . Resigning  an  office  he  re- 
garded himself  as  unequal  to  fultil,  he  spent  his  remain- 
ing days  in  pra}^er ; and  bequeathed  a name  and  a 
memory  which  will  often  occur  when,  in  years  to 
come,  we  commemorate  ‘ those  who  have  departed  this 
life  in  God’s  faith  and  fear.’  ” ^ 


And  this  must  suffice. — In  consequence  of  Richmond’s 
masterly  delineation  of  his  features,  when  about  fifty- 
two  years  of  age,  William  Jacobson  will  be  more  than 
seen  by  posterity.  His  voice  will  be  almost  heard.  It 
is  related  of  Michael  Angelo  that  he  used  to  say  to 
Donatello’s  statue  of  S.  Mark,  at  Florence, — “3Iarco, 
perche  non  mi  jmtU  ” I never  look  up  at  the  engraving 
of  my  friend,  as  it  hangs  on  the  wall  of  our  dining-room, 
without  expecting  that  he  will  speak  to  me.  I am 
sure,  if  he  does,  it  will  be  to  say  something  kind. 

2 ‘Charge'  1871, — p.  i.  ‘ Warrington  Guardian,' — Aug.  9, 

® Archdeacon  [now  Bishop]  1884. 

Bardsley’s  Sermon,  quoted  in  the 


(XI).  CHARLES  PAGE  EDEN: 


THE  EARNEST  PARISH  PRIEST, 

[A.D.  1807—1885.] 

HEN  the  original  draft  of  the  ensuing  Memoir 


appeared,^  the  Bishop  of  S.  Albans  (Dr.  Claugh- 
ton)  wrote  to  me  as  follows  : — “ If  ever  one  of  those  short 
memorials  of  a life  that  appear  from  time  to  time  in  the 
‘ Guardian  ’ was  calculated  to  do  good,  it  is  your  sketch  of 
Charles  Page  Eden’s  life  and  character.  How  wonderfully 
it  developed  : and  what  a lesson  comes  from  Aberford  to 
every  young,  aye,  and  to  every  old  Clergyman ! I thank 
you  for  it  from  my  heart.”  . . . Besides  the  gratification  it 
affords  me  to  put  on  record  such  testimony  from  a dear, 
honoured,  and  likeminded  friend,  it  seems  to  me  that  in 
no  way  am  I so  likely  to  make  the  perusal  of  the  follow- 
ing pages  profitable  to  my  reader,  as  by  quoting  the 
Bishop’s  spontaneous  tribute  to  th  worth  of  the  man 
therein  commemorated.  What  was  but  briefly  set  down 
before,  shall  be  now  considerably  enlarged.  Many  an 
Oxford  man,  belonging  to  a bygone  generation,  will  de- 
sire some  fuller  notice  of  the  sometime  Fellow  of  Oriel 
and  vicar  of  S.  Mary-the-Virgin’s ; who,  both  as  a 
scholar  and  a divine,  was  a conspicuous  figure  in  the 
Oxford  of  1830  to  1850.  Let  it  be  added,  that  the 

^ Viz.  in  the  ^ Guardian^  of  Jan.  27th,  1886, — p,  143. 

VOL.  II.  X 


3o6  Charles  Page  Eden:  [1807 

affectionate  sentiment  thus  ascribed  to  many  old  mem- 
bers of  the  University  is  largely  shared  by  not  a few  in 
the  Northern  Province,  where  the  last  five-and-thirty 
years  of  Canon  Eden’s  life  were  passed,  and  where  he  has 
left  behind  him  a name  universally  revered  and  lamented. 

Charles  Page  Eden,  youngest  but  one  of  the  eight 
children  of  the  Kev.  Thomas  Eden, — and  Ann  (daughter  of 
the  Kev.  Charles  and  Ann  Page  of  Northleach  in  Glou- 
cestershire) his  wife, — was  born  at  Whitehall,  S.  George’s, 
near  Bristol,  March  13th,  1807.  He  was  collaterally 
descended  from  William  Patten,  better  known  as  William 
of  Waynflete,  Chancellor  of  England,  and  founder  of 
Magdalen  College,  Oxford ; his  grandfather,  John  Eden, 
having  married  Elizabeth  Patten,  sister  of  Thomas 
Patten^  D.D.,  Fellow  of  Corpus  Christ!  College,  Oxford, 
and  rector  of  Childrey,  Berks.  His  father  held  a Curacy 
in  or  near  Bristol,  and  took  pupils.  All  that  is  tradition- 
ally remembered  of  that  long  since  vanished  home  in- 
dicates an  atmosphere  of  intellect,  taste,  and  cultivation. 
Musical  skill  was  not  wanting  ; and  Coleridge  recited  to 
the  family  circle  at  an  evening  gathering  at  Whitehall 
the  rough  draft  of  his  ‘ Ancient  Mariner'  . . . Eden’s  elder 
brother,  Bobert,  honorary  Canon  of  Norwich  Cathedral 
and  vicar  of  Wymondham  in  Norfolk, — who  has  achieved 
for  himself  celebrity  as  an  author  and  as  a Divine, — yet 
survives  of  that  elder  generation. 

The  subject  of  the  present  Memoir  always  spoke  of  his 
Mother  with  intense  affection.  He  owed  everything  (he 
said)  to  her  wise  training  and  bright  example.  She 
survived  her  husband  thirty-seven  years.  Shortly  before 
the  close  of  her  life  (March  25th,  1846),  on  being  invited 
by  her  son  to  inscribe  her  name  in  a private  memorandum 


1825]  The  Earnest  Parish  Priest.  307 

book,  she  recorded  the  experience  of  her  82  years  of  life 
as  follows : — “ The  LoKD  will  destroy  the  house  of  the 
proud,  but  He  will  establish  the  border  of  the  widow.” 
His  Father,  Charles  Page  Eden  never  knew, — Thomas 
Eden  having  died  (July  22nd,  1809,  aged  57,)  when  his 
son  was  but  two  years  old,  leaving  a widow  with  eight 
children.  These,  it  is  allowable  to  presume,  were  but 
slenderly  provided  for, — seeing  that  little  Charles’s  nurse 
offered,  in  her  own  and  her  husband’s  name,  if  Mrs.  Eden 
would  consent  to  part  with  the  infant,  “ to  bring  him  up 
as  their  own,  to  be — a collier T 

The  widowed  Mother  battled  bravely  for  her  little 
brood,  the  eldest  of  whom  was  but  twelve  years  of  age, 
parting  with  none  of  them.  Charles,  till  he  was  fourteen, 
was  sent  to  a day-school  in  Bristol.  Afterwards  he 
was  placed  at  the  Eoyal  Institution  School  at  Liverpool, 
under  the  Bev.  John  Boughey  Monk, — a scholar  whose 
valuable  teaching  he  always  remembered  with  gratitude.^ 
Next,  he  obtained  excellent  help — and  was  himself  a 
teacher — in  a school  which  ranked  second  only  to  the  Boyal 
Institution.  It  was  conducted  by  his  cousin,  the  Rev.  John 
Charles  Prince.  Thus  it  happened  that,  gifted  with 
excellent  abilities,  Charles  Page  Eden  enjoyed  continuous 
classical  training,  until,  at  the  age  of  eighteen,  he  went 
up  to  Oxford,  and  was  admitted  at  Oriel  as  Bible-clerk 
(October  25,  1825), — supremely  fortunate  in  thus  coming 
at  once  under  the  influence  of  the  accomplished  scholars 
and  admirable  men  who  at  that  time  were  the  college 
Tutors.  In  a very  private  devotional  paper  enumerating 
the  chief  blessings  of  his  life,  he  was  careful  to  record 
— “ The  good  education  so  wonderfully  provided  for  me, 
one  stage  after  another,  and  good  success  granted  me 

^ He  was  the  first  Head  Master,  Johnson,  who  now  presides  over  the 
— 1818-28.  (From  the  Eev.  H.  J.  School.) 


3o8 


Charles  Page  Eden: 


[1831 

therein;  ” adding  immediately  after, — “The  having  been 
sent  to  an  excellent  College, — but  in  a position”  (allud- 
ing to  his  Bible-clerkship)  “ calculated  to  guard  me  from 
idleness  and  expense.”  At  the  Michaelmas  examination 
of  1829,  laborious  undergraduate  career  was  rewarded 
with  a first  class  hi  Literis  Kumanionhus. 

In  the  ensuing  year  he  took  his  B.A.  degree,  and  com- 
peted successfully  for  the  Ellerton  theological  prize.  In 
1831,  he  obtained  the  Chancellor’s  prize  for  the  best 
English  essay.  The  subject  of  the  former  was, — ‘ Whether 
the  doctrine  of  One  God,  differing  in  His  iiature  from  all  other 
beings,  was  held  by  any  Heathen  nation  or  sect  of  Philosophers, 
before  the  birth  of  Christ  — the  subject  of  the  latter, — ‘ On 
the  Use  and  Abuse  of  Theory!  At  the  Easter  of  1832,  after 
two  failures,  he  was  elected  Fellow  of  Oriel.  In  the  next 
year  he  took  his  M.A.  degree,  and  received  Deacon’s 
Orders. 

In  the  enumeration  of  signal  blessings  (set  down  in 
the  private  paper  already  quoted),  his  next  memorandum 
is, — “ My  friends  in  Oxford, — the  choice  men  of  the  day.” 
A juster  ground  of  thankfulness  cannot  be  imagined. 
His  brother-fellows  were  some  of  the  most  delightful 
and  accomplished  gentlemen  one  has  ever  known, — 
Keble,  Newman,  Froude,  Denison,  Walker,  Kogers, 
Marriott,  Church.  But  it  would  be  untruthful  in  a 
biographer  were  he  to  disguise  the  fact  that  there  were 
occasions,  not  a few,  when  Eden  strained  those  friend- 
ships severely.  Whatever  the  cause  may  have  been, — 
(and  it  is  easy  to  invent  more  than  one  honourable  excuse 
for  the  man  one  loved), — in  those  early  days  he  was  apt 
to  show  himself  arrogant  and  conceited : or  he  could  be 
tii-esome  and  provoking  in  a high  degree.  Strange,  that 
one  who  did  so  yearn  for  sympathy  from  others,  could  be 


1833]  The  Earnest  Parish  Priest.  309 

constantly  inconsiderate,  sometimes  even  rude ! Stranger 
yet,  that  so  holy  a liver  should,  in  his  social  relations, 
have  so  often  seemed  unmindful  of  that  unwritten  con- 
ventional code  which  enables  men  of  the  highest  culture, 
though  exhibiting  great  diversity  of  individual  character, 
to  live  harmoniously,  even  very  happily,  together ! But 
so  it  was.  Let  it,  however,  at  once  be  stated,  and  in  the 
plainest  terms,  first — That  it  was  only  the  outside  bark 
that  was  so  rough.  All  might  see  that  there  was 
thoroughly  good  stuff  within.  And  next — That  Eden 
greatly  mellowed  and  softened  as  he  advanced  in  life  ; 
fought  against  his  older  self,  and  in  the  end  effectually 
overcame  it.  Yes,  and  I must  add  that  so  entirely  were 
these  faults  of  manner  external, — unconnected,  I mean, 
with  the  inward  man, — that  I once  heard  him  exclaim 
softly,  (with  something  very  like  a tear  in  his  eye), — “ I 
know  somebody  who  is  very  sorry  for  it  afterwards  N 

Eden  was  speedily  appointed  Tutor, — later  on,  he  became 
Dean  of  his  College.  He  was,  I suspect,  too  conscientious 
in  the  matter  of  discipline  to  be  popular  in  the  latter 
capacity ; too  laborious  a student  himself,  to  be  able  to 
make  himself  pleasant  to  those  who  came  unprepared  to 
his  lectures.  But  the  cleverer  men, — (and  undergraduates 
are  capital  judges  of  a Tutor’s  abilities  and  attainments,) 
— recognized  his  merit  as  a teacher.  His  Greek  and 
Latin  scholarship  in  fact  was  excellent : not  showy  but 
sound  and  thorough.  No  one  was  surprised  to  learn  that 
he  was  a candidate  for  the  Greek  Professorship  in  the 
infant  University  of  Durham ; nor  to  find  his  candida- 
ture supported  by  his  brother-fellow,  John  Henry  New- 
man,— who  wrote  concerning  him  to  Hugh  James  Bose 
as  follows  : — 

“ I find  Froude  has  mentioned  to  you  the  name  of  our 


310  Charles  Page  Eden:  [1834 

friend  Eden,  as  a man  likely  to  suit  for  the  Greek  Pro- 
fessorship at  Durham.  He  is  a very  clever  man,  and  (as 
far  as  I know  him)  sound  in  his  principles,  though,  at  the 
age  of  26  or  27,  he  cannot  be  supposed  to  have  them 
altogether  settled  ; but  I know  nothing  to  the  contrary. 
He  is  a simple-hearted  man,  which  makes  him  seem 
somewhat  egotistical,  though  he  is  not  so  in  mind  (I 
believe)  more  than  other  men, — and  he  is  much  improved 
of  late.  I do  really  believe  that  he  would  do  credit  to 
the  situation.”^ 

It  should  also  be  recorded  that,  though  the  actual 
course  of  his  Tutorship  was  not  happy,  either  with  his 
pupils  or  with  the  Provost,  it  remains  true  that  the  men 
who  had  disliked  him  as  undergraduates  reverted  after- 
wards to  those  days  with  the  greatest  gratitude  for  his 
counsels,  and  real  understanding  of  their  wants  and 
dangers.  Many  are  known  to  have  expressed  this  feeling 
heartily.  His  lectures  are  remembered  to  this  hour  for 
their  sterling  value.  A friend  and  neighbour^  once 
remarked  to  me, — “ I learned  more  from  him  at  Oriel 
than  from  any  other  tutor  in  College.  His  clearness, 
vivacity,  and  power  of  illustration,  interested  and  stirred 
me  up.  He  threw  a light  upon  Horace’s  Satires  which 
was  quite  new  and  engaging  to  me.  I have  never  forgotten 
itr  Another  old  friend, — a distinguished  scholar,  un- 
fortunately no  longer  a neighbour,^ — sends  me  the  follow- 
ing as  his  prevailing  recollection  of  the  same  period : — 
“ He  was  an  unsparing  critic  of  our  compositions  (our 
English  compositions  especially),  but  a very  useful  one'' 

But  I am  getting  on  too  fast.  Eden  having  taken 
Priest’s  Orders  in  1834,  first  made  proof  of  his  Ministry 

® Postscript  to  a letter  dated,  tor  of  Hurstpierpoint. 

‘Oriel  College,  i6  Aug.  1833.’  ® Eev.  D.  P.  Chase,  D.D.,  Prin- 

^ Pev.  Carey  H.  Borrer,  Trea-  cipal  of  S.  Mary  Hall, 
surer  of  Chichester  Cathedral,  Kec- 


1839]  The  Earnest  Parish  Priest.  311 

as  Curate  to  the  Kev.  John  Calcott,  then  Chaplain  of  S. 
Michael’s,  Oxford.  His  connection  with  that  parish 
began  in  the  Long  Vacation  of  1835,  and  terminated 
before  the  Easter  of  1839.  Here,  he  established  his 
reputation  as  an  energetic  parish  Priest.  His  sermons  at 
S.  Michael’s  became  even  famous  in  the  University.  He 
was  appointed  select  Preacher  in  1838, — again  in  1853. 
In  1 835  he  published  a pamphlet : its  title, — “ &elf-RfO~ 
tection^  the  case  of  the  Articles^  by  Clericus.” 

The  Heanship  of  his  College,  to  which  he  was  elected 
in  the  October  of  the  same  year,  was  of  course  incom- 
patible with  the  necessary  demands  of  a Curacy.  Eden 
had  given  his  heart  to  his  sacred  calling,  and  his  zeal 
was  as  conspicuous  when  he  was  without  a parish  as 
when  he  was  in  charge  of  one.  Oriel  College  had  recently 
purchased  the  Little  worth  (then  called  the  ‘ Wadley  ’) 
Estate, — a hamlet  of  Faringdon,  which  was  as  yet  un- 
provided with  either  Church  or  Chapel.  As  a necessary 
consequence,  the  peasantry  were  almost  in  a heathen 
state.  An  aisle  of  Faringdon  Church  used  to  be  known 
as  the  ‘ Littleworth  Aisle  ’ ; and  a short  cut  across  the 
fields  (still  called  ‘ Church-path’)  was  made  for  the  con- 
venience of  the  inhabitants.  But  they  were  utterly 
neglected.  Eden,  finding  the  College  indisposed  to  build 
a Church  at  Littleworth,  at  once  set  about  soliciting 
subscriptions  with  a view  to  erecting  one ; and  was  so 
strenuous  in  his  canvass  that,  in  the  end,  a Church  was 
erected.®  The  Provost  and  Fellows,  with  other  members 
of  the  College,  contributed  in  all  upwards  of  1300^. 
towards  the  Building  and  Endowment  Fund.  Littleworth 
Church  was  consecrated  on  the  39th  May,  1839, — on 


® The  architect  (Underwood)  was  the  little  Churches  of  Summertown 
the  same  who  furnished  designs  for  and  Littlemore. 


312 


Charles  Page  Eden  : 


[1847 

which  occasion,  the  Provost  of  Worcester  (Dr.  Cotton),  who 
had  been  a munificent  contributor  to  the  work,  preached 
the  Sermon.  It  was  the  commencement  of  a new  era. 

The  first  Curate  (1838)  and  Incumbent  (1839)  was  the 
Eev.  Joseph  Moore  (Vicar  of  Buckland-cum-Littleworth), 
who  long  after  (viz.  in  1875)  at  his  own  expense  (800/.) 
added  a Chancel  to  Littleworth  Church,  as  well  as  in- 
creased the  slender  endowment  of  the  cure.'^  Moore  was 
a great  friend  of  Eden’s, — who  in  Vacation  time,  de- 
lighted in  riding  over  and  officiating  as  honorary  Curate. 
Still  lingers  on  with  old  Oriel  men  the  memory  of  the 
anecdotes  he  had  to  relate  concerning  his  horse,  and  his 
rides  to  and  fro  ; and  how,  on  principle,  he  gave  the 
animal  its  day  of  Sabbatical  rest  on  a Monday? 


I recall  with  interest  a visit  to  Littleworth  on  the 
22nd  April,  1847.  That  hamlet  is  only  a mile  distant 
from  Wadley  House,  where  (as  lords  of  the  manor)  Oriel 
College  used  every  year,  soon  after  Easter,  to  hold  a 
“ court  baron  and  leet.”  A certain  old-world  charm  there 
was  in  those  expeditions  which  made  them  agreeable ; 
but  the  actual  proceedings — except  when  they  were 
picturesque — were  tedious  and  the  reverse  of  interesting. 
The  Provost  (in  full  Canonicals), — supported  by  the  legal 
functionary  of  the  College,  and  attended  by  as  many  of 
the  Fellows  as  were  disposed  for  a holiday, — of  course  pre- 
sided. I have  seen  the  whole  body  engaged  in  unrolling 


At  the  instance  of  the  Rev. 
Edw.  Thorp,  and  chiefly  through 
the  liberality  of  Oriel  College,  a 
parsonage  house  was  built  at  Little- 
worth in  1884.  The  endowment 
has  also  been  increased  through  the 
exertions  of  the  same  gentleman. 
So  eminently  has  the  good  work 
which  C.  P.  Eden  initiated  some  50 


years  ago,  grown  and  prospered  ! 

® “ Mr.  Eden,”  the  hero  of 
Charles  Reade’s  novel,  (“  Never  too 
late  to  mend  ”),  corresponds  only 
in  name, — and  to  some  extent  in 
respect  of  scene, — with  the  subject 
of  the  present  memoir.  The  con- 
nection, I am  assured,  is  wholly 
fortuitous. 


1847]  The  Earnest  Parish  Priest.  313 

yard  after  yard  of  the  inconvenient  records  of  the  Court, 
with  a view  to  ascertain  whether  there  existed  ‘ temp. 
Jacohi  E traces  of  a right  of  way  over  certain  lands  &c. 
&c.  (‘Wisdom  of  our  forefathers!’  Chase  was  heard  to 
ejaculate  gravely  at  every  fresh  revolution  of  the  pon- 
derous roll.) . . . The  practice  of  those  days  was  to  dine  on 
our  way  back  at  a little  roadside  Inn,  at  Pusey  Furze, — 
some  three  or  four  miles  short  of  Wadley.  Such  of  the 
Fellows  as  could  not  spare  the  whole  day  would  ride  over, 
and  meet  the  rest  of  the  party  at  dinner.  On  the  oc- 
casion already  referred  to,  little  eloquence  was  required 
on  Eden’s  part  to  persuade  me,  about  noon,  to  slip  away 
with  him, — in  order  to  become  introduced  to  Littleworth, 
and  to  end  the  day  by  dining  with  his  friends  at  Buck- 
land.  The  Rev.  Joseph  Moore  had  recently  married  the 
youthful  daughter  of  Davison,  sometime  Fellow  of  Oriel, 
and  author  of  the  famous  Discourses  on  DropJiecyl' — a 
circumstance  which  made  her  an  object  of  supreme 
interest  in  my  eyes.  We  made  out  our  little  expedition 
very  successfully,  had  a delightful  afternoon  and  a 
charming  evening ; — Eden,  all  the  while,  in  the  highest 
spirits  at  finding  himself  in  the  locality  which  was  so 
dear  to  him,  and  in  the  society  of  the  man  who  had  so 
strenuously  helped  him  to  fight  and  win  the  battle  of 
Littleworth.  He  was  asking  after  everything  and  every- 
body ; and  all  the  way  back  tried  to  persuade  me  that 
there  was  no  place  and  no  people  in  the  world  like 
Littleworth  and  its  natives.  But  indeed,  the  neighbour- 
hood had  been  singularly  blessed.  Denchworth,  which 
is  only  a few  miles  off,  has  been  mentioned  in  a previous 
memoir  as  the  scene  of  Dr.  Cotton’s  energetic  ministerial 
labours  and  munificent  exertions  on  behalf  of  the 
peasantry  of  Berkshire.^ 

® See  above,  pp.  73-7. 


314  Charles  Page  Eden:  [1840 

I have  been  speaking  of  a phase  of  Eden’s  life,  and  an 
aspect  of  his  character,  with  which  his  College  friends 
were  not  generally  acquainted.  When  I have  asked  any 
of  them  for  anecdotes  of  this  period  of  his  life,  they  have 
shown  themselves  familiar  rather  with  grotesque  and  in- 
congruous images.  Thus,  Dr.  Greenhill  (on  reading  the 
first  sketch  of  the  present  memoir,)  wrote, — “ I think 
you  might  have  told  us  about  his  adventures  in  the 
mob,  with  Kogers  and  Church,  on  the  5th  of  November, 
38  or  ’39.”  (Far  be  it  from  me  to  attempt  to  describe 
what  Lord  Blachford  and  the  Dean  of  S.  Paul’s  could 
narrate  so  much  better.)  A famous  Archdeacon,  also  a 
brother-fellow,  on  being  asked  for  any  recollections  of 
those  days, — (after  a dramatic  rehearsal  of  the  well- 
known  incident  to  which  Dr.  Greenhill  refers,) — proceeds 
as  follows  : 

“In  our  old  Waterperry  times,  Eden  was  constantly 
over  there  on  Sundays.  With  an  old  French  friend,  a 
governess  of  the  girls,  he  was  often  in  controversy ; but 
his  French  was  indifferent,  and  his  manner  positive. 
Many  times  he  would  say — (as  if  there  were 
two  ^/^’s  at  the  end) — ‘ je  deteste  les  Fran9ais  ; ’ 

adding  in  English,  out  of  very  kindness  of  heart — ‘ I 
hope  I haven’t  gone  too  far  1 ^ 

Another  story  of  the  same  class,  which  belongs  to 
Oriel  proper,  will  be  best  appreciated  by  Oriel  men. 
Heavy  complaints  against  the  College  cook  having  been 
brought  by  the  undergraduates  to  Eden  (in  his  capacity 
of  “ Dean  ”),  he  sent  for  the  offender,  recapitulated  his 
several  delinquencies,  and  in  the  most  slashing  style 
“ slanged,”  even  threatened,  him.  After  a pause, — “ La, 
Mr.  Eden,”  rejoined  the  cook,  in  a confidential  tone, — 
pleasantly  tossing  his  head,  and  assuming  a bland, 
patronising  smile  ; — “ it’s  of  no  manner  of  use  attending 

1 From  the  Ven.  Arclid.  Denison. 


1840]  The  Earnest  Parish  Priest.  315 

to  what  the  young  men  tell  you  about  my  dinners. 
Why,  you  know,  Mr.  Eden,  they  come  just  in  the  same 
way  to  me^  and  complain  about  your  lectures!'  Eden  (who 
had  the  keenest  sense  of  the  ridiculous)  was  so  overcome 
with  a dreadful  inclination  to  break  out  into  a guffaw, 
that  he  dared  not  reply.  I believe  he  fled  into  his  bed- 
room and  bolted  the  door.  Anyhow,  the  cook  remained 
master  of  the  situation. 

It  may  have  been  the  recollection  of  that  unsatis- 
factory encounter  which  induced  Eden,  next  time,  to 
manoeuvre  more  skilfully.  A prebendary  of  this  Cathe- 
dral, Kev.  R.  C.  Powles,  describes  the  scene  at  the  end 
of  40  years. — It  was  a high-table  dinner,  and  Eden  (as 
“ Dean  ”)  was  in  the  chair.  The  cook  was  sent  for  into 
Hall,  (a  proceeding  highly  annoying  to  the  functionary, 
who  perforce  appears  in  the  insignia  of  his  office— paper 
cap,  &c.) — has  to  march  up  towards  the  high-table, — and, 
in  the  presence  of  the  assembled  guests  and  the  whole 
body  of  the  undergraduates,  is  constrained  to  listen  to 
an  allocution  which  is  sure  to  prove  the  reverse  of  com- 
plimentary). Mr.  King  ! ” (here,  Eden  applied  the 
fingers  of  either  hand  to  the  sides  of  the  hot- water  plate 
before  him  : then,  erecting  the  forefinger  of  his  right 
hand,  he  exclaimed  with  a voice  of  menace, — “ Not  a 
word,  Mr.  King ! These  plates — not  a word ! ” (again 
imperiously  erecting  his  forefinger)  “ were  meant  to  be — 
hot.  They  are — cold.”  (Up  went  the  forefinger  again.) — 
“Not  a word,  Mr.  King!’^  [Exit  coquus^  pursued  by  a 
shout  of  derisive  laughter.) 

While  on  this  head,  I may  not  fail  to  mention  what 
an  exceedingly  witty  man  Charles  Page  Eden  was. 
Chiefly  was  he  felicitous  or  droll, — as  the  case  might 
be, — in  his  classical  allusions.  “ Cereus  in  vitium  fiecti^' 


3j6 


Charles  Page  Eden: 


[1840 


he  once  exclaimed  at  dinner,  (for  we  did  not  as  yet  burn 
gas  in  hall),  when  the  guttering  from  the  wax  candle, — 
first,  stiffened  into  a curve, — then,  broke  away, — and 
finally,  invaded  his  plate.  . . . While  he  was  engaged 
on  his  edition  of  Jeremy  Taylor,  it  was  obvious  (sitting 
by  his  side)  to  inquire,  ‘ What  discoveries  he  had  made 
to-day  ? ’ “I  think  I have  caught  the  good  man  trip- 
ping,” he  once  replied,  “ but  the  company  shall  judge. 
Jeremy  is  made  to  say  that  some  monarch  of  antiquity 
gave  to  his  daughter  America  for  her  portion.”  “ Why, 
America  had  not  yet  been  discovered ! ” some  one 
sapiently  remarked.  “No,  to  be  sure,”  ejaculated  Eden, 
“ ‘ nota  quae  sedes  fiierat  Columdo.'  ” (He  explained  that 
it  was  a misprint  for  ‘ Armenia^  • . • But  his  pleasant- 
ries were  without  number.  . . . Once,  at  dinner,  (the 
day  having  been  piping  hot),  some  one  broke  silence 
with, — “Well,  I've  been  doing  a cool  thing.”  “ What!  ” 
(exclaimed  Eden,  gazing  at  the  speaker  with  well-feigned 
amazement), — “ To-day  P'  . . . Asked  by  a pupil,  ‘ What 
books  he  had  better  get  to  read  on  the  XXXIX  Articles  1 ’ 
— “ Books  on  the  Articles  ?”  exclaimed  Eden,  “Why,  buy 
Tomline — and  Burnet,”  (which  of  course  he  pronounced 
“ and  hmi  it")  . . . When  one  hears  witty  things  said 
without  effort  at  every  meal,  it  is  little  supposed  that  the 
time  will  come  when  one  shall  remember  such  scintilla- 
tions as  curiosities. — I recall,  after  my  Ordination,  asking 
Eden  if  he  had  any  advice  to  give  me  about  Sermon 
writing.  He  looked  graver  than  necessary,  took  up  a 
visiting-card,  and  wrote  at  the  back  of  it, — “ Beware  of 
putting  all  the  Divinity  you  know  into  your  first  Sermon.” 

In  the  great  Oxford  movement,  throughout  the  whole 
of  which  Eden  was  resident  at  Oriel,  I suspect  he  was 
not  a little  indebted  for  his  security  to  the  practical 


1834]  The  Earnest  Parish  Priest. 


317 


outlet  provided  for  his  cravings, — moral  and  spiritual, — 
by  the  active  parochial  work  of  which  I have  spoken 
somewhat  largely,  and  which  may  be  truly  declared  to 
have  been  one  of  the  requirements  of  his  nature.  Be- 
sides this,  he  had  happily  imbibed  the  genuine  Catholic 
spirit  of  our  great  Anglican  Divines,  by  a patient  study 
of  their  writings ; and  thus  was  proof  against  that  secta- 
rian Eomeward  leaning  which  so  miserably  disfigured 
the  later  movement,  and  proved  fatal  to  the  faith  of  so 
many.  But  throughout  that  sifting  and  trying  time, 
every  resident  of  mark  found  himself  in  a measure 
compelled  to  take  a side;  and  it  is  needless  to  say 
that  Eden  was  heartily  with  the  (so  called)  “ Trac- 
tarian  ” party. 

Report  assigns  to  him  the  authorship  of  Tract  No.  32 
(‘  The  Stafidmg  Ordinances  of  Religion  ’).^  At  the  end  of 
fifty  years  after  its  production,  on  being  appealed  to  on 
the  subject, — It  certainly  may  be  called  mine,”  (he 
wrote  to  Mr.  F.  II.  Rivington,)  “ and  I am  happy  to 
appear  in  such  good  company  as  the  authors  of  Tracts, 
vol.  i.”  In  his  own  copy  of  ‘ Tracts  for  the  Times'  is 
found  the  following  memorandum,  written  in  the  last 
year  of  his  life  : — 

“ I believe  that  Tract  32  (on  ‘ The  Sta?iding  Ordinances  of 
Religion  ’)  was  written  by  me, — whether  touched  up  by 
J.  H.  N.  on  its  passage  to  the  Press,  I cannot  say. — 
J.  H.  N.  in  starting  the  series,  (under  the  circumstances 
set  forth  in  the  preparatory  Advertisements  and  early 
Tracts),  allowed  some  of  his  junior  friends  to  furnish 
contributions  ; but  gradually  the  work  gathered  itself 
into  the  hands  of  the  more  learned  few,  with  a more 
marked  line  of  doctrine  than  some  of  us, — including 
myself, — could  see  our  way  to  follow. 

“Charles  Page  Eden,  Easter,  1885.” 

^ ‘ Whitaker  s Almanack^  for  1883,  pp.  ^40-1. 


3i8  Charles  Page  Eden:  [1843 

In  1845,  published  a ^Letter  to  the  Bishop  of  Oxford 
concerning  Tract  No.  90/  in  defence  of  the  Author, — 
although  himself  an  Anglican  to  the  backbone.  Finally, 
on  the  resignation  of  Mr.  Newman,  Eden  succeeded  to 
the  vicarage  of  S.  Mary- the-Virgin’s,  October  17th,  1843. 
When  the  'Apologia'  appeared,  he  was  heard  to  exclaim 
— “ Intense  unconscious  love  of  power ! ” 

He  retained  S.  Mary’s  till  the  Easter  of  1850,  when  he 
was  in  turn  succeeded  by  Charles  Marriott.  A perilous 
undertaking,  truly,  it  was  to  succeed  to  that  pulpit  after 
such  an  one  as  John  Henry  Newman.  But  S.  Mary’s  is 
a thoroughly  delightful  parish  to  serve,  and  Eden  was 
not  wanting  in  devotion,  earnestness,  or  ability.  He 
formed  a Bible-class  for  the  young  shopmen  of  the  parish. 
It  was  impossible  to  listen  to  him,  Sunday  after  Sunday, 
without  making  advances  in  Divine  knowledge.  He 
was  by  many  greatly  beloved  ; for  he  was  known  to  lead 
a singularly  consistent  and  holy,  as  well  as  an  eminently 
useful,  life.  Large-hearted,  open-handed,  self-denying, 
sincere, — he  was  looked  up  to  by  every  one  in  the  Uni- 
versity whose  good  opinion  was  worth  having. 

What  were  Eden’s  political  opinions,  may  be  readily 
divined.  A correspondent  of  the  ‘ Guardian^  who  signs 
himself  ‘ Canonicus,’  relates  of  him  as  follows : — 

“When  Mr.  Gladstone’s  seat  was  first  threatened  at 
Oxford,  a brother  of  mine  then  residing  there,  (to  whom 
Eden  had  showed  much  kindness),  to  his  great  sur- 
prise saw  his  name  appearing  on  Mr.  Bound’s  Com- 
mittee. He  expressed  his  astonishment  to  Eden, 
remarking  that  he  thought  all  his  sympathies,  ec- 
clesiastical and  theological,  were  with  Mr.  Gladstone. 
‘ So  they  are,’  was  his  reply,  ‘ but  I have  no  confi- 
dence in  his  stability.  He  is  a man  who  can  per- 
suade his  conscience  to  anything.  He  swims  with  the 


1844]  The  Earnest  Parish  Priest.  319 

stream,  and  I should  never  be  surprised  to  see  him 
voting  for  the  abolition  of  Church-rates,  or  for  the 
exclusion  of  the  Bishops  from  the  House  of  Lords.’ 
Eden  however  meddled  little  with  politics.  He  was 
essentially  a learned  and  thoughtful  Divine. 

He  was  also  certainly  one  of  the  most  original  of 
Preachers.  Having  folded  certain  large  sheets  of  paper 
into  an  octavo  pamphlet  of  about  twenty  pages,  he  would 
produce  this  document  in  the  pulpit,  unadorned  with 
cover  or  disguise  of  any  kind  ; hold  it  close  to  one  of  the 
pulpit  candles,  (for  he  wrote  small  and  his  sight  was  not 
strong) ; toss  his  head  slightly  back,  and  with  fixed  gaze 
and  solemn  emphasis  proceed  to  read.  There  was  no 
verbiage,  no  redundancy  of  expression  anywhere  dis- 
coverable. All  was  clear,  terse,  logical,  scholarlike.  The 
points  in  the  Sermon  were  unmistakable,  even  as  the 
sincerity  of  the  Preacher  was  conspicuous  ; moreover, 
they  were  all  very  good  points.  There  was  just  a dash  of 
quaintness  in  the  entire  exhibition, — call  it  originality  if 
you  will, — which  rather  added  to,  than  detracted  from, 
its  attractiveness.  I recall  an  occasion  on  which,  (his 
eyes  fastened  earnestly  on  his  manuscript),  he  began 
somewhat  as  follows : — “ My  brethren,  my  sermon  last 
Sunday  afternoon  struck  me  as  being  so  very  important, 
that  I propose  to-day  to  read  it  over  again.”  And  read 
it  he  did, — I cannot  describe  how  deliberately. 

He  was  as  sound,  as  learned,  and  judicious  a Divine  as 
any  I have  had  the  happiness  of  numbering  among  my 
friends.  Not  particularly  addicted  to  fishing  in  Com- 
mentaries, he  had  found  out  the  far  “ more  excellent 
way  ” of  being  all  his  life  a truly  thoughtful  and 
laborious  student  of  the  Bible  itself.  He  fed  upon  it : lived 
upon  it : to  employ  a phrase  of  one  very  dear  to  us  both 

^ From  the  Guardian  (Feb.  lo,  1886), — p,  217. 


320  Charles  Page  Eden:  [1845 

(Charles  Marriott),  he  habitually  “ mtendecl  his  mind  ” 
upon  it.  In  consequence,  being  thoroughly  sound  in  the 
faith, — (for  he  was  a great  master  of  Anglican  divinity), 
— blessed  with  a calm,  clear,  and  vigorous  understand- 
ing, as  well  as  gifted  with  a chastened  imagination, — he 
had  always  something  valuable  as  well  as  interesting  to 
offer  about  any  place  of  Scripture,  whether  difficult  or 
easy.  His  remarks  reminded  one  of  Bengehs.  The  secret 
of  his  success  as  an  expositor  was  his  profound  rever- 
ence : his  fine  theological  instinct : and,  not  least,  the 
interesting  language  in  which  he  habitually  clothed  his 
thoughts.  Take,  as  a specimen  of  this,  his  handling  of 
the  story  of  Adam’s  Fall.^  It  is  much  to  be  regretted 
that  he  published  so  little.  What  he  did  write  deserves 
to  be  far  better  known  than  it  is.  I allude  especially  to 
a volume  of  ^ Sermons  preached  at  8.  Mark's,  in  Oxford  ' pub- 
lished in  1855,  and  dedicated  to  the  Provost  of  Worcester 
College,  Dr.  Cotton,  “ in  remembrance  of  the  blessing  of 
his  long  and  faithful  friendship.”  Of  those  sixteen 
discourses,  ten  were  delivered  before  the  University  at 
intervals  between  1388  and  1854.  Those  on  the  ^Inspira- 
tion of  Scripture',  on  the  ‘ Unity  of  Design  in  Holy  Scripture', 
and  ‘ On  the  Study  of  Prophecy'  are  especially  deserving  of 
attention. 

A copy  of  this  volume  lies  before  me,  which  Eden 
sent  to  his  friend  the  Bev.  Joseph  Moore,  with  the  follow- 
ing letter  written  inside  the  cover.  I the  rather  give  it 
insertion  because  it  recalls,  not  ungracefully,  the  names  of 
persons  and  places  which  have  already  come  before  the 
reader  ; as  well  as  exhibits  Eden  as  if  he  were  actually 
speaking: — 

^ In  a iiiglily  effective  sermon,  en-  the  second  in  the  volume  next  men- 
titled,  ‘ Results  of  BreaMng  God’S  tioned. 

Law.'  Michaelmas,  1854.  It  is 


321 


1855]  The  Earnest  Parish  Priest. 

“ Aberford,  Milford  Junction,  All  Saints,  1855. 

“ My  dear  Moore, — I beg  your  acceptance  of  this  little 
volume. 

“One  of  the  pleasures  of  authorship  is  that  it  gives 
one  the  opportunity  of  sustaining  converse,  as  it  were, 
with  a distant  friend.  I remember  with  much  satis- 
faction that  you  remarked,  on  hearing  one  of  these 
sermons  many  years  ago,  that  it  was  ‘ scriptural’  I 
trust  that  you  may  be  able  to  express  the  same  judgment 
of  the  whole  volume,  and  that  thus  it  may  minister  to 
the  continuance  of  our  friendship. 

“I  shall  be  interested  in  knowing  whether  yourself 
and  Mrs.  Moore  are  able,  in  reading  these  pages,  to  detect 
my  obligations  to  my  favourite  author, — the  writer  of 
the  admirable  ^Discourses  07i  Prophecy!  I must  be  excused 
for  not  having  expressly  acknowledged  those  obligations 
in  the  course  of  my  own  pages  ; the  work  to  which  I 
allude  being  one  of  those  which, — once  known, — become 
part  of  one’s  own  mind  for  the  future,  and  identified  with 
one’s  best  principles. 

“ Believe  me  ever  sincerely  yours, 

“ C.  Page  Eden.” 

I cannot  dismiss  the  volume  of  Sermons  which  has 
occasioned  the  foregoing  remarks,  without  again  declar- 
ing that  it  deserves  to  be  inquired  after,  and  diligently 
read.  Often  was  Eden  urged  by  his  friends  to  give  the 
Church  another  selection  from  his  manuscript  stores,  but 
he  had  one  answer  for  us  all : — 

“In  reply  to  your  (and  Burgon’s  urgent)  suggestion 
that  I should  publish, — experience  seems  to  decide  against 
it.  I once  published  a little  volume  [of  Sermons],  and 
while  I received  many  gratifying  notices  of  them  from 
persons  whose  judgment  would  carry  weight,  the  market 
did  not  endorse  their  opinion.  An  issue  of  500  hardly 
went  off.  A remnant  hangs  on  the  publisher’s  hands.”  ^ 

In  a previous  page,  something  was  said  about  Eden’s 

® To  the  Kev.  J.  H.  Moore,  his  former  Curate, — Sept,  i,  1877. 

VOL.  II.  Y 


32  2 Charles  Page  Eden:  [1855 

Greek  and  Latin  scholarship.  A circumstance  which 
strikes  me  as  scarcely  less  deserving  of  friendly  notice 
was  his  mastery  of  the  English  language.  He  wrote 
classical  English, — a rare  accomplishment  at  our  Uni- 
versities. Every  one  must  have  known  thoroughly  good 
Latin  scholars  who  yet  seemed  quite  incapable  of  writing 
a page  of  English  without  a solecism, — much  less  with 
elegance  and  classical  propriety.  Eden’s  skill  and  felicity 
in  this  respect  must,  I should  think,  have  struck  those 
who  listened  habitually  to  his  Sermons  at  S.  Mary’s. 
For  my  own  part,  I never  knew  a preacher  less  apt  to 
encumber  his  meaning  with  superfluous  words,  or  to 
render  it  uncertain  by  illogically  constructed  sentences. 
He  said  the  thing  he  wanted  to  say  without  circumlo- 
cution,— put  it  very  clearly, — and  let  it  alone.  Without 
the  exquisite  idiomatic  felicity  of  Newman,  or  the 
graceful  vigour  of  Church,  he  certainly  knew  exactly 
what  was  in  his  own  mind,  and  how  to  express  it  in 
language  which  should  not  offend  the  most  fastidious 
taste.  He  was  a thoroughly  good  English  scholar. 
Perhaps  it  is  worth  adding  that  (to  judge  from  several 
specimens  of  his  autograph  manuscripts), — he  wrote  his 
meaning  oflT  at  once ; did  not  (I  mean)  toil  over  his 
written  pages, — correct  and  re-correct  them, — as  the 
manner  of  some  is. 

While  on  this  head,  I cannot  help  recalling  (with  a 
smile)  his  inveterate  habit  of  writing  very  short  (as  well 
as  meagre)  letters.  But  in  fact  his  letters  (strange 
to  relate)  were  always  notes^ — were  written,  I mean,  on 
paper  measuring  4i  by  35  inches.  Not  unfrequently  he 
would  have  recourse  to  a second  sheet.  But  I never  re- 
member having  received  (or  seen)  a letter  from  him 
commenced  on  larger  paper.  No,  nor  have  I ever 
received  or  seen  a letter  of  his  which  did  not  appear 


1833]  The  Earnest  Parish  Priest.  323 

to  have  been  written  in  something  like  a hurry.  Let  it 
however  also  be  stated,  in  all  faithfulness,  that  though 
there  was  not  a word  wasted, — he  never  failed  to  say 
plainly  and  well  what  he  had  in  his  mind  to  say.  Nor 
was  there  any  lack  of  courtesy,  not  to  say  of  kindness, 
in  those  curt  and  sometimes  rather  disappointing  com- 
munications. 

A solitary  exception  to  the  foregoing  remark  presents 
itself, — so  interesting,  so  important  even,  that  I venture 
to  insert  it  entire,  as  it  has  been  sent  (by  Dean  Church) 
to  me. 

“Aberford,  Leeds,  9 Nov.  1880. 

“ My  dear  Dean  of  S.  Paul’s, — In  compliance  with 
your  wish  I put  on  paper  the  anecdote  I gave  you. 

“ In  the  year  1832  or  3,  being  in  Bristol,  I heard  that 
it  was  proposed  to  put  up  a mural  tablet  in  the  Cathe- 
dral to  the  memory  of  Bishop  Butler.  A gentleman  who 
was  taking  a leading  interest  in  the  design  told  me  that 
the  sum  required  was  (I  think)  130/.,  and  that  the  con- 
tributions halted  at  10/.  short  of  that.  I promised  to 
apply  to  the  College,  Butler  having  been  an  Oriel  man, 
— (which  I did,  and  they  immediately  made  up  the  sum.) 
My  informant  also  told  me  that  they  had  applied  to 
Mr.  Southey  the  Poet  Laureate,  a native  of  Bristol,  to 
write  an  Inscription.  Mr.  Southey’s  reply,  which  was 
shewn  me,  was  remarkable.  He  said  he  was  sorry  they 
had  applied  to  him,  because  he  was  not  the  man  to  do  it  : 
an  Inscription,  (he  said,)  should  be  written  with  much 
precision,  and  have  no  faults ; whereas  his  rule  in  writ- 
ing had  always  been  to  think  as  much  as  possible  about 
what  he  had  to  say,  and  as  little  as  possible  about  the 
manner  of  saying  it.®  Plowever,  he  would  try.  He  sent 
an  Inscription,  a prose  sentence,  which  I thought  excel- 
lent. Not  so  however  the  Prebendary  then  ‘ in  residence,’ 
Dr.  Samuel  Lee,  the  great  Oriental  scholar ; who  criti- 
cised it  severely,  and  was  making  several  alterations. 

® Tlie  reader  is  invited  to  refer  to  what  is  written  above,  about  Dean 
Hansel’s  practice, — in  p.  222. 


324 


Charles  Page  Eden: 


[1833 


But  the  vernacular  was  not  forte.  I was  petrified  at 
his  proposals,  and  urged  my  friend  at  all  hazards  to 
ignore  them.  He  told  me  this  was  impossible,  Dr.  Lee 
being  for  the  time  the  paramount  authority.  At  last,  I 
prevailed  upon  him  to  risk  it,  and  the  Inscription  was, — 
I believe  entirely, — saved.  One  of  the  Doctor’s  require- 
ments, I remember.  “ ‘ It  was  reserved  for  him.’ — ‘ Re- 
served h ’ JFIio  reserved  it  ? I suppose  he  means,  ‘ it 
remained  ’ ; put  it  so.”  &c.  &c.  This  was  nearly  fifty 
years  ago,  but  I think  I can  trust  my  memory  for  the 
particulars. 

“ Southey  was  reckoned  the  best  prose  writer  of  his 
day,  and  it  is  interesting  to  learn  from  himself  what  his 
rule  for  composition  was.  It  will  remind  you  of  an 
elegant  paragraph  in  Cicero  (‘  Orator!  23).  Speaking 
of  the  mtmeri  to  be  sometimes  observed  in  Oratory,  he 
mentions  favourably  a style,  ‘ quod  indicet  non  mgratam 
negligentiam^  de  re  liominis  magis  qnam  de  verhis  lahorantis 
....  Ilia  enim  ipsa  . . . no7i  negligenter  tractanda  siint, 
sed  quaedam  etiam  negligeyitia  est  diligens.  Nam  ut  mu- 
lieres  esse  dicuntur  7ionnullae  mornatae^  quas  idipsum  de- 
ceat,  sic  liaec  suhtilis  oratio  etiam  incompta  delectat.  Fit 
enim  quiddam  in  utroque  quo  Jit  venustius^  sed  non  ut  ap- 
pareat!.  . . Is  it  not  a charming  sentence  ? 

“ Ever  most  truly  yours 

“C.  Page  Eden.” 

Subjoined,  will  be  found  Southey’s  fine  Inscription  on 
Butler’s  mural  tablet  in  Bristol  Cathedral,’^ — which  “ it 


“ Sacred  | To  the  Memory  | of  | 
Joseph  Butler,  D.C.L.  | Twelve 
years  Bishop  of  this  Diocese,  | and  | 
afterwards  Bishop  of  Durham ; [ 
whose  mortal  part  is  deposited  j 
in  the  Choir  of  this  Cathedral. 

Others  had  established  | the  His- 
torical and  Prophetical  grounds  | 
of  the  Christian  Religion,  | and  | 
that  sure  testimony  of  its  truth  j 
which  is  found  in  its  perfect  adap- 
tation 1 to  the  heart  of  man.  | It 
was  reserved  for  him  to  develop  [ 


its  analogy  to  the  Constitution  | 
and  Course  of  Nature;  | and,  lay- 
ing his  strong  foundations  | in  the 
depth  of  that  great  argument,  | 
there  to  construct  | another  and 
irrefragable  proof:  j thus  render- 
ing Philosophy  | subservient  to 
Faith,  I and  finding  in  outward 
and  visible  things  | the  type  and 
evidence  | of  those  within  the  veil,  | 


Born  A.  D.  1692.  Died  1752.” 
(This  follows  in  a panel,  be- 
neath) : — 


1833]  The  Earnest  Parish  Priest.  325 


was  reserved  ” for  the  subject  of  these  pages  to  preserve 
from  barbarous  mutilation.  Eden’s  next  letter  to  Dean 
Church  is  (of  course)  a 7iote  : — 

“Aberford,  Leeds,  12  Nov.  1880. 

“My  dear  Dean, — Pray  make  any  use  which  suits 
you  of  my  anecdote.  I also  corrected  the  notice  of 
Butler’s  degree.  It  used  to  be  written  ‘ L.L.D.’  This 
was  a mistake  frequently  made.^  Dr.  Bliss  told  me  the 
University  of  Oxford  had  not  given  degrees  in  Canoji 
Law  for  centuries.  ‘ LL  ’ means  ‘ Legum,’ — Civil  and 
Canon.  In  the  published  list  of  Graduates,  Johnson  is 
given  as  D.C.L. 

“ Ever  truly  yours,  C.  P.  Eden.” 

“ P.  S.  Of  course  you  know  Blunt’s  (J.  J.)  two  papers 
in  the  Quarterly,  on  Butler’s  (i)  Works : (2)  Memoir. 
They  are  in  the  collected  volume,  ‘ Blunt's  Essays^ — and 
will  repay  the  reader. 

“Did  it  ever  occur  to  you  that  Butler’s  great  argu- 
ment in  the  Analogy  is  exactly  that  of  i Cor.  xv.  36  ? 
The  case  standing  thus  : — 

“ Ohj.  ‘ I cannot  swallow  the  notion  of  the  Kesurrection 
of  the  Body.’ 

“ Ans,  ‘ Whatever  becomes  of  your  difficulty,  I point  out 
to  you  that  God  certainly  does  the  like  in  Nature.’  ” 


What  immediately  precedes  has  interrupted  my  narra- 
tive somewhat  too  largely;  but  I was  unwilling  to 
withhold  such  interesting  materials,  and  I knew  not 
where  to  introduce  them  with  greater  propriety  than 
here.  It  was  of  Eden  as  a Preacher,  and  of  Eden’s 
Sermons,  that  I was  speaking.  By  far  the  most  success- 
ful of  his  efforts  of  this  class  was  a sermon  preached 


“ He  wlio  believes  tbe  Scripture 
to  have  proceeded  from  Him  who 
is  the  Author  of  Nature,  may  well 
expect  to  find  the  same  sort  of  dif- 
ficulties in  it  as  are  found  in  the 
constitution  of  Nature.” 

Origen,  ^ PhilocaV  23. 


(For  the  above,  I am  indebted  to 
the  Rev.  W.  Mann,  Precentor  of 
Bristol  Cathedral.) 

* It  is  so  engraved  on  the  silver 
coffee-pot  (?)  whichButler  presented 
to  Oriel  College. 


326 


Charles  Page  Eden: 


[1840 

before  the  University  in  1840,  entitled  by  himself 
‘ Waiting  on  the  Lonnl  but  which  ought  rather  to  have 
been  entitled  ^JEarly  Prayer  the  Secret  of  a Holy  Lifef 
It  made  a wonderful  impression  on  the  academic  audi- 
tory, and  has  been  referred  to  by  many  with  grateful 
emotion  at  the  end  of  twenty  or  thirty  years.  Eden  was 
prevailed  upon  to  print  it  for  private  circulation,  and  it 
subsequently  reappeared  as  a tract.  It  occupies  the 
foremost  place  in  his  published  volume,  and  was  again 
reprinted  (by  myself)  for  distribution  among  the  under- 
graduates, in  1867.  This  truly  precious  composition 
ought  to  be  put  into  the  hands  of  every  young  man  on  his 
first  going  up  to  the  University.  Its  argument  may  be 
inferred  from  the  text  (Is.  xl.  31), — “They  that  wait 
upon  the  Loed  shall  renew  their  strength.” 

Two  discourses  by  the  same  author  are  to  be  found  in 
two  of  Bishop  Wilberforce’s  Lent  courses  at  S.  Mary’s.^ 
Two  other  sermons  appeared  in  a volume  compiled  for 
the  use  of  pupil- teachers.  One,  on  Retrihutionf  was 
privately  printed  by  himself.^  Another  (it  is  a very 
brief  one)  on  the  Ember  Erayersf  was  preached  in  York 
Minster  on  the  14th  Sept.  1873.  A Sussex  magistrate, 
who  happened  to  hear  that  sermon,  offered  to  defray  the 
expense  if  the  preacher  would  consent  to  publish  it.^ 
His  only  other  separately  published  sermon  will  be 
found  described  at  p.  331.  A sermon  which  he  delivered 
in  York  Minster  on  the  Athanasian  Creed  (Quinqua- 

^ I have  only  a memorandum  of  Oxford,  pp.  15,  1873. — There  are 
hisSermon(preachedMar.  3rd, 1885)  Sermons  of  his  in  certain  ^Sermons 
on  ‘ Shallowness  in  Religion^  on  the  Epistles  and  Gospels  ’ pub- 

^ On  S.  Luke  vi.  38, — reprinted  lished  by  the  S.P.C.K. : viz.  at 
from  ^ The  Church  of  England  p.  181  (S.  Matth.  vii.  21),  andp.  281 
pulpit.’  (Gal.  iii.  19). 

^ On  Jeremiah  iii.  15. — Parker, 


1846]  The  Earnest  Parish  Priest.  327 

gesima,  1871),  is  the  best  defence  extant  of  that  priceless 
feature  of  our  Liturgical  inheritance. 


But  it  was  as  an  Editor  that  C.  P.  Eden  submitted 
to  the  severest  literary  drudgery.  For  the  ‘ Lilrary  of 
Anglo-Catholic  Theology^  he  is  known  to  have  conducted 
through  the  press  with  infinite  labour  (in  1846)  a new 
edition  of  Andrewes’  ^Pattern  of  Catechistical  Poctrine^ 
and  other  Minor  Works, ^ — a truly  admirable  volume 
which  every  Divine  should  possess.  A characteristic 
passage  from  his  editorial  ‘Notice’  prefixed  to  the  volume 
deserves  to  be  transcribed  : — 

“ There  are  now  but  a very  few  references  in  the  whole 
book  which  have  not  been  verified : a statement  which 
they  who  know  the  works  of  that  period  will  understand 
the  importance  of.  The  toil  which  this  has  required, 
the  strange  disguise  under  which  some  of  the  names 
were  lurking, — ^ Agesilaus’  the  holder  of  a remarkable 
view,  turning  out  after  every  biographical  notice  of  every 
‘ Agesilaus  ’ had  been  ransacked,  to  be  no  King  of  Sparta, 
but  the  philosopher  ^ Arcesilas’  (p.  26): — the  Eahhi  Ahhi- 
delusl  after  being  hunted  through  all  the  regions  of 
Hebrew  literature,  disclosing  himself  as  the  ancient 
historian  Hdydenus,’  (p.  49) ; — the  people  called  ‘ Caes,' 
after  having  been  nearly  abandoned  as  a lost  nation, 
turning  out  to  be  the  people  called  ^ Seres,'  (p.  375):-- 
‘ Outeruss  ancient  descriptioyisl  found  by  a happy  con- 
jecture to  be  Gruter’s  valuable  work  in  disguise: — these, 
and  the  like,  are  recollections  for  an  Editor,  but  of  little 
interest  to  others.”  ^ 

Even  more  characteristic  of  Eden  is  it,  that,  after  such 
a prodigious  expenditure  of  toil,  he  has  nowhere  identi- 
fied himself  with  the  volume  in  question, — not  even  by 
somewhere  introducing  his  initials.  I am  reminded  of 


Notice, — p.  5. 


328  Charles  Page  Eden:  [1848 

a feature  of  character  which  has  already  come  before  us 
in  the  Memoir  of  Bishop  Jacobson, — p.  269-70. 

His  most  famous  effort  of  this  kind  was  his  new  edition 
of  the  ‘ Works  of  Bishop  Jeremy  Taylor k It  appeared  in  ten 
volumes  in  1847-54.  Altogether  incredible  is  the  amount 
of  learned  research  which  these  two  works,  (but  especi- 
ally the  latter,)  occasioned  him, — so  scandalous  was  the 
inaccuracy,  or  rather  the  absence  of  care,  with  which 
Bishop  Heber’s  edition  had  been  carried  through  the 
press.  These  were  Eden’s  contributions  to  the  grand 
effort  which  was  about  that  time  made  to  recommend  to 
a generation  singularly  careless  of  the  Theology  of  their 
sires,  the  works  of  the  most  famous  Anglican  Divines. 

An  enumeration  of  the  ‘ works  ’ (in  a different  sense) 
of  the  world’s  ‘ unknown  Benefactors  ’ would  be  in  a 
high  degree  interesting  and  edifying.  With  Eden,  I 
believe,  originated  the  scheme  for  obtaining  those  three 
Cemeteries  which  have  proved  so  great  a blessing  to 
Oxford.  F or  him,  I am  certain,  ‘ it  was  reserved,’  by  his 
individual  zeal  and  earnestness,  to  give  effect  to  the 
design.  A Eeport  of  the  Oxford  Parish  Burial-ground  Com- 
mittee'^  dated  February  i,  1844,  which  lies  before  me, 
indicates  as  fitting  sites: — (i)  ^The  Holywell  Fields;' 
(2)  '‘The  Field  m St.  Giles's  Parish.^  %Dhere  the  Cholera  Hospital 
was  erected  in  1832  ; ’ and  (3)  ‘ The  Field  near  Osney  Mill.' 
Long  before  he  left  Oxford,  Eden  enjoyed  the  satisfaction 
of  seeing  the  three  sacred  enclosures  thus  indicated,  fully 
established  and  universally  recognised  as  a splendid 
public  benefit. 

This  enterprise  is  alluded  to  by  Charles  Marriott, 
writing  to  the  Kev.  William  Cotton  (Sept.  24,  1844) 
in  New  Zealand: — 

“ Oxford  has  been  rather  disturbed  of  late  by  a con- 


1850]  The  Earnest  Parish  Priest. 


329 


troversy  about  Burying-grounds.  A plan  was  proposed 
for  an  ‘ omnium  gatherum  ’ Cemetery, — part  to  be  conse- 
crated ; part,  not.  Eden,  and  the  parochial  Clergy,  got 
up  another  plan  for  additional  Parish  burying-grounds.” 
— [Next  year  (Feb.  26,  1845),  Marriott  writes: — ] “ They 
have  at  last  completed  the  purchase  of  a piece  of  ground, 
(which  turns  out  to  be  the  old  Osney  burying-ground), 
for  an  addition  to  the  churchyard  room  of  Oxford.  This 
is  a great  point  gained ; as  there  is  a party  which  would 
much  prefer  a Cemetery  with  a line  across  it,  for  church- 
men and  for  sectarians.  There  have  been  great  difficulties 
and  delays.” 

His  connection  with  S.  Mary’s  came  to  a close  at 
the  end  of  six  years  and-a-half.  He  was  presented  by 
Oriel  College  to  the  vicarage  of  Aberford,  Yorkshire, 
(the  Founder  s earliest  acquisition),  on  the  22nd  of  March, 
1850.  On  arriving  there,  Eden  rose  to  the  requirements 
of  his  new  sphere  of  duty  with  vigour  and  alacrity.  He 
built  a new  and  very  commodious  Parsonage-house,  the 
site  of  the  Vicarage  being  at  the  same  time  added  to  the 
churchyard ; and  he  completely  restored  his  Church, 
devoting  towards  the  work  nearly  a whole  year’s  income. 
A public  footpath  through  the  churchyard,  he  caused  to 
be  stopped ; and  never  rested  until  he  had  made  the 
sacred  enclosure  a very  model  of  neatness  and  order. 
In  due  time,  he  improved  and  enlarged  the  Schools  of 
the  parish.  Thus,  it  was  not  with  him,  as  it  is  said  to  be 
sometimes  with  Fellows  of  Colleges  who  accept  a remote 
country  Cure  in  mature  life, — namely,  to  find  themselves 
‘ out  of  their  element  ’ : out  of  harmony  with  their  un- 
lettered neighbours  : unable  to  accommodate  themselves 
to  the  environments  of  humble  pastoral  life.  Bather  was 
the  removal  to  Aberford,  in  Eden’s  case,  a returning  to 
his  “ first  love.”  He  threw  himself,  heart  and  soul,  into 
every  requirement  of  the  time,  and  of  the  place,  and  of 


Charles  Page  Eden: 


[1852 


330 

the  people ; and  was  at  once  rewarded  by  what  the  wise 
man  assures  us  is  “ from  the  Loed,”  ^ — viz.  a good  Wife. 
He  was  so  happy  as  to  win  the  affections  of  the  beautiful 
and  accomplished  daughter  of  the  former  vicar  of  Aber- 
ford.  On  the  i6th  of  November,  1852,  he  was  united 
(by  a brother  Fellow)  to  Isabella  Jane,  youngest  daughter 
of  the  Kev.  James  and  Anne  Landon.^  It  was  the  begin- 
ning of  his  own  complete  felicity. 

She  was  a lady  of  excellent  understanding,  as  well  as 
of  delightful  manners, — or  she  could  never  have  proved 
the  joy  and  solace  of  Eden’s  life.  With  a fine  womanly 
instinct  she  appreciated  her  Husband’s  sterling  moral 
worth, — revered  his  humble  piety, — delighted  in  his 
intellectual  power.  She  thought,  (as  was  graceful  and 
right,)  that  she  leaned  entirely  upon  him, — her  ‘ oracle, 
her  guide,  and  help.’  “ He  was  always  able  ” (she  said) 
“ to  answer  a question,  or  to  tell  me  where  I could  find 
an  answer.”  But  I strongly  suspect  (for  I knew  Eden 
very  well)  that,  without  being  aware  of  it,  it  was  he  who 
leaned  entirely  upon  her.  On  being  told  long  after  that 
some  one  had  been  struck  by  her  husband’s  quaintness 
of  manner  in  the  pulpit,  Mrs.  Eden  replied, — “ I see  him, 
and  all  he  was,  and  did,  through  the  softening  veil  of 
the  affectionate  intercourse  of  years.  It  was  only  those 
who  had  constant  intercourse  with  him  who  knew  him 
for  what  he  really  was.”  So  completely  did  Eden  realize 
by  a blessed  experience  what  it  is  to  be  (in  Horatian 
phrase)  “thrice  happy,  and  more.”  . . . Four  children  were 
the  fruit  of  their  union,  of  whom  the  two  elder  are 


* Prov.  xix.  14.  Comp.  ch.  xviii.  at  Aberford  was  a younger  brother 
22  ; xxxi.  10.  of  the  Eev.  Whittington  Landon, 

® Eden’s  immediate  predecessor  D.D.,  Provost  of  Worcester  College. 


1852]  The  Earnest  Parish  Priest.  331 


married.®  All  have  proved  a comfort  and  a blessing  to 
their  Parents. 

An  unknown  writer  relates  as  follows : — 

“ Mr.  Eden,  in  1851,  soon  after  his  removal  to  Aber- 
ford,  preached,  and  afterwards  printed,  at  the  request  of 
the  clergy,  a very  helpful  Visitation  sermon — ^Tlie  Things 
ivritte7i  aforetime  written  for  our  Learning^  The  argu- 
ment of  the  sermon  is  summed  up  in  one  sentence  of  it : 
— ‘ If  God  permitted  Israel  to  fall  into  troubles,  when  it 
was  His  purpose  (as  in  the  sequel  was  made  clear)  to 
raise  her  from  those  troubles,  the  discovery  that  our  own 
difficulties  are  the  same,  or  strikingly  parallel  with  those 
which  our  elder  sister,  the  Church  of  Israel,  was  per- 
mitted to  fall  into,  should  give  us  an  interest  in  the 
record  of  the  deliverance  which  God  granted  to  her’ 
[p.  4].  The  parallel  is  worked  out  with  characteristic 
skill  and  thoughtfulness. 

“ Towards  the  end  of  the  sermon  [p.  1 6]  there  is  a word 
of  wise  admonition  which  I venture  to  think  may  suit 
these  times  as  well  as  those : — ‘ I am  not  sure  whether  it 
has  always  occurred  to  the  English  Clergy  of  late, 
especially  to  the  younger  portion  of  them,  how  much 
they  lose  by  eccentricity  of  Ritual,  and  the  like.  I am 
not  sure  whether  it  has  been  always  remembered  by 
them  how  they  weaken  the  force  of  their  moral  teaching 
by  it,  by  giving  (namely)  a handle  to  those  who  like  not 
their  teaching,  to  put  each  item  of  it  aside  as  part  of 
their  eccentricity.’  ” ^ 

The  impression  which  Eden  at  this  time  of  his  life 
made  on  those  who  knew  him  most  intimately,  deserves 
to  be  recorded.  His  conscientious  stewardship  of  his 
opportunities  struck  one  person  most : “ the  wonderful 


® Eev.  Charles  Page  Eden,  Eector 
of  Catsfield,  Sussex  : — Anne  Isabel, 
{m.  to  Walter,  son  of  the  late  Eev. 
W.  Neate,  Eector  of  Alvescot, 
Berks)  : — Thomas  Bainbridge,  and 
Mary  Anne  Eden. 


From  the  ‘ Guardian^  (Feb. 
10,  1886), — p.  217.  The  letter  is 
signed  “ J.  K.” — This  truly  excel- 
lent Sermon  was  preached  at  Ponte- 
fract, at  the  Visitation  of  Archd. 
Creyke,  April  30,  1851. 


332  Charles  Page  Eden:  [1856 

and  methodical  way  in  which  he  mapped  out  his  time, 
and  the  scrupulous  exactness  with  which  he  kept  up  his 
own  private  Theological  reading.” 

He  devoted  an  hour  daily  to  studying  a portion  of  the 
Old  Testament  in  Hebrew:  gave  his  whole  attention 
to  whatever  he  had  in  hand : and  inculcated  the  same 
habit  of  close  attention  on  those  who  came  to  him  for 
counsel.  The  devout  and  exceedingly  impressive  way  in 
which  he  conducted  Family  Prayers,  is  another  point  much 
dwelt  upon.  He  used  to  preface  them  by  a few  verses  of 
Scripture,  on  which  he  made  suitable  remarks, — always 
to  the  point.  They  were  held  in  his  study,  where  he 
habitually  knelt  in  the  same  spot,  close  to  a favourite 
engraving  of  the  Last  Judgment,  in  front  of  which  hung 
a curtain. 

One  who,  by  the  advice  of  the  Kev.  Arthur  W.  Haddan, 
went  to  read  Divinity  with  the  vicar  of  Aberford  in  1856, 
bears  eloquent  testimony  to  his  faithfulness  and  zeal. 
He  relates  of  Eden  that  he  was  simply  indefatigable  in 
visiting  from  house  to  house,  and  that  his  ministrations 
to  the  sick  were  truly  edifying.  In  the  Almshouse  (a 
large  and  rather  grand  Gothic  building)  his  plain  loving 
manner  with  the  old  men  was  admirable, — riveting  their 
attention  to  his  teaching,  and  winning  their  confidence. 
In  the  School,  he  almost  invariably  taught  for  an  hour 
daily.  “ But  no  words  of  mine  ” (proceeds  my  informant) 
“ can  do  anything  like  justice  to  his  Sermons.  Who  could 
ever  forget  them  ? ” . . . The  Rev.  F.  G.  Inge  proceeds  as 
follows : — 

“ There  was  no  particular  charm  of  manner  or  delivery, 
— rather  the  opposite.  When  he  preached  at  Cambridge 
it  was  remarked  that  ‘ he  was  always  saying  striking 
things  which  fell  to  pieces  in  the  pulpit  ’ ; and  an  igno- 
rant rustic  parishioner  wondered  why  so  many  came  to 


1856]  The  Earnest  Parish  Priest. 


333 


listen  to  him,  saying  he  himself  could  preach  as  well. 
But,  once  used  to  the  quaintness  of  his  manner,  you 
became  conscious  that  the  importance  of  his  matter  grew 
upon  you.  It  was  always  so  sound,  solid  and  good, — so 
thoughtful  and  suggestive, — as  well  as  in  a high  degree 
practical.  A visitor  at  Aberford  remarked  that  ‘ there 
was  no  need  to  go  to  London  to  hear  good  Sermons.’  The 
fertile  and  original  mind  made  old  topics  seem  new.  His 
method  of  handling  them  was  all  his  own.  Many  a 
hearer  confessed  that  the  Preacher  had  unravelled  to  him 
the  secrets  of  his  heart.  When  first  he  came  to  Aberford, 
he  attempted  to  preach  without  book ; but  finding  such 
addresses  less  acceptable  to  the  congregation  than  written 
ones,  (like  Henry  Martyn),  he  discontinued  the  practice 
entirely. 

“ He  seldom  allowed  himself  a holiday ; and  though 
furnished  with  an  inexhaustible  fund  of  amusing  stories 
and  racy  anecdotes,  was  shy  of  dining  out.  When  he 
did,  he  was  rather  apt  to  startle  people.  Once,  at  a 
party  of  squires  and  fox-hunters,  the  conversation  becom- 
ing very  dull,  he  suddenly  propounded  the  question — 
‘Gentlemen!  how  do  you  justify  fox-hunting?’  There 
was  an  immediate  chorus  of  surprise  and  perplexity, 
and  the  animated  discussion  which  followed  was  only 
closed  by  the  hostess  declaring  that  she  ‘ believed  the 
fox  liked  it.’ 

“In  his  Parish  he  was  an  untiring  and  excellent  visitor; 
often  employing  his  evenings  for  that  purpose,  in  order 
to  catch  the  men.  He  would  divide  the  Village  with  his 
Curate ; and,  at  the  end  of  a few  months,  exchange  spheres 
with  him, — when  the  discovery  was  generally  made  that 
he  had  accomplished  more  than  the  other,  who  was  pro- 
bably not  half  his  years.  He  was  diligent  also  in  cottage 
lectures,  and  for  some  time  in  Night-schools.  Like  Mr. 
Keble,  he  constantly  taught  (with  his  Curate)  in  the  Hay 
and  Sunday  School,  and  catechised  the  choir-boys  in  the 
Church  at  the  afternoon  service.  In  fact,  he  lived  in 
and  for  his  parish, — never  going  away  on  Sundays ; 
except  to  preach,  in  his  turn,  as  Canon  in  York  Minster; 
nor  on  week-days,  except  to  attend,  as  Proctor,  the  York 


334  Charles  Page  Eden:  [1856 

Convocation.  When  he  lost  the  use  of  his  lower  limbs, 
he  persisted  to  the  last  in  being  wheeled  into  the  Church, 
reading  the  Lessons,  and  addressing  the  people  from  his 
chair.  Of  the  Clerical  Society  which  met  periodically  at 
his  house,  it  is  needless  to  say  that  he  was  the  life  and 
soul.  He  commended  Eeligion  to  all  by  his  unfailing 
brightness  and  cheerfulness ; and  one  person  at  least, 
through  what  he  met  with  in  that  pleasant  Yorkshire 
parsonage,  completely  recovered  from  the  shock  of  the 
greatest  bereavement  which  Man  can  undergo.”  ^ 

It  deserves  to  be  recorded  that  no  one  ever  had  more 
excellent  or  more  devoted  Curates  ; also,  that  no  one  ever 
appreciated  the  worth  of  his  Curates  more  thoroughly,  than 
he.  In  truth,  the  faithful  Pastor  makes  (to  some  extent) 
the  zealous  Curate.  There  lies  before  me  one  of  Eden’s 
letters  to  the  Rev.  J.  H.  Moore,  (who  had  written  to  him 
from  Florence,)  dated, — “ Aberford,  the  dear  old  study, 
connected  with  the  memory  of  nine  Curates,  all  of  them 
now  my  friends,  dotted  over  England,  not  to  say  Europe.”  ^ 
— How  true  it  is  that  the  best  School  for  the  Ministerial 
Office  is  the  Parsonage  house, — the  precepts  and  the 
example  of  such  an  one  as  Charles  Page  Eden ! 

Nor  should  the  record  be  omitted  that  there  were  other 
lessons  to  be  learned  of  him,  besides  those  of  personal 
holiness  and  strenuous  practical  piety.  He  was  a truly 
intellectual  companion.  His  brilliant  wit  and  fine  philo- 
sophic vein,  at  any  time  of  his  maturer  life,  must  have 
struck  every  one.  He  was  witty  and  thoughtful  to  the 
last.  His  passion  for  the  books  he  had  once  made  his 
own,  revived  and  strengthened  as  he  drew  near  the  end 
of  his  course.  His  enthusiasm  for  Butler  was  always 
intense.  When  some  young  man,  in  prospect  of  a 
coming  examination,  complained  in  his  hearing  that  he 

® From  the  Eev.  F.  George  Inge,  Rector  of  Walton,  Berkswich,  Stafford. 

® Written  in  or  about  i88i. 


1858]  The  Earnest  Parish  Priest. 


335 


‘could  not  keep  his  books  in  his  head,’  I remember  hearing 
Eden  ejaculate  to  himself  softly, — ‘‘  difficulty  would 

be  to  keep  them  out  of  mine  ! ” To  the  last,  in  the  even- 
ing, he  used  to  resort  to  the  pages  of  some  ancient  author. 
Homer  was  his  latest  favourite.  He  kept  up  his  Hebrew 
and  his  German,  by  daily  reading  something,  though  it 
was  but  little,  in  both  languages.  It  was  the  fault  of 
those  who  were  intimately  associated  with  him  if  they 
did  not  kindle  their  torch  from  his,  and  bear  it  joyously 
onward  in  life’s  race. 

A letter  of  Eden’s  to  one  of  his  Curates  will  probably 
be  perused  with  interest  by  some : — 

“ I appreciate  the  kindness  of  your  letting  me  be 
a partner  in  your  difficulties.  If  I answer  briefly  to 
your  questions,  it  is  not  because  I have  thought  little 
about  them,  but  because  I have  thought  much. 

“ My  difficulties,  at  your  age,  were  greatly  like  your 
own.  I recognise  the  picture  at  once.  Had  I to  spend 
my  years  in  the  Ministry  over  again,  I would  (with 
God’s  help), — 

“ I.  Never  linger  in  reproaching  myself  with  having 
so  little  love  to  God,  but  spend  more  time  in  meditating 
on  encouraging  objects.  I would  gaze,  until  I saw  it  in 
the  heavens,  on  the  crown  which  Chkist  had  for  me,  as 
the  reward  of  my  keeping  up.  I would  see  Him  on  a 
distant  hill,  holding  it  forth  in  my  view,  and  beckoning 
me  to  come  and  have  it,  tJiTOugJi  the  difficulties  which  I 
find  in  my  way ; not  others,  but  those  : for  remember, 
my  dear  friend,  it  is  by  combating  the  real  difficulties  of 
your  path,  such  as  you  find  them,  that  you  are  pleasing 
the  Lord  and  showing  forth  the  power  of  His  Spirit,  the 
Spirit  of  faith  and  love. 

“ 2.  I would  read  the  Bible  more,  and  always  as  a com- 
munication directly  from  God  to  myself,  intended  to 
give  me  some  instruction  and  encouragement  in  reference 
to  the  duties  of  the  coming  day. 


33^  Charles  Page  Eden:  [1858 

“ 3.  I would  live  strictly  by  rule,  as  far  as  the  laying 
out  of  any  day  rested  with  myself.  It  is  astonishing 
how  lightly  this  makes  the  day  go. 

‘‘  By  all  means  go  in  for  Priest’s  Orders. 

“ Touching  your  own  despondency,  do  this.  Look  out 
people  in  your  district  who  want  to  be  cheered  and 
encouraged  in  their  Christian  race,  and  look  out  suit- 
able passages  of  Holy  Scripture  to  go  and  read,  and 
expound  to  them:  and  watering,  you  shall  be  watered 
again. 

“ Never  despond.  Patience  worketh  experience,  and 
experience,  hope  ; and  [hope]  maketh  not  ashamed ; be- 
cause the  love  of  God  is  shed  abroad  in  our  hearts  by 
the  Spirit  which  is  given  to  us. 

“ Let  us  not  be  weary  in  well-doing  ; for  in  due  time 
we  shall  reap  if  we  faint  not. 

“ Write  to  me  again,  dear  friend,  when  you  feel  that  a 
word  of  sympathy  will  be  a comfort  to  you.”  ^ 

In  the  summer  of  1884,  he  determined  to  carry  into 
effect  a long-standing  wish  to  have  a parish  ‘Mission.’ 
He  turned  for  help  (26th  June)  to  an  admirable  former 
Curate  of  his  own, — a man  whom  he  heartily  loved  and 
appreciated,  the  Eev.  James  H.  Moore,  now  Kector 
of  S.  Mary’s,  Truro.  This  intended  Mission  came  to 
nothing, — as  well  it  might,  projected  under  such  un- 
favourable circumstances ; but  it  is  striking  to  meet 
with  such  a token  of  pastoral  earnestness  in  one  who 
was,  at  the  same  time,  constrained  to  say  for  himself, — 

“ J/y  work  is  done.  Through  the  last  four  months 
I have  been  losing  power  in  my  lower  limbs,  by  steady 
and  unmistakable  degrees.  I fear  I shall  not  be  able 
to  mount  my  pulpit-steps  again  : and,  when  up  there, 
I cannot  stand.  It  remains  that  I thank  the  Loed  for 
giving  me  warning,  and  that  I ask  for  grace  to  listen  to 
His  voice. 


To  the  Rev.  J.  E.  Eadon,  Preston,  Hitchin, — Sept.  22nd,  1858. 


1884]  The  Earnesi^  Parish  Priest. 


n n >~T 
00/ 

“ Surely,  loving  kindness  and  mercy  have  followed  me 
all  the  days  of  my  life  : and  I shall  dwell  . . . yes, 
I shall  dwell.  I know  whom  I have  trusted. 

“In  reviewing  my  life  and  its  blessings,  I reckon 
among  the  chief  the  friends  I have  had. 

“Yours  through  the  days  on  earth  and  beyond,  C.P.E.”  - 

Let  me,  ere  I conclude,  gather  together  some  of  the 
evanescent  records  which  have  reached  me  concerning 
this,  the  latest  period  of  Charles  Page  Eden’s  life.  His 
wife  relates  as  follows  : — 

“ His  last  two  years  of  work  were  a great  effort 
to  him  ; but  we  were  very  happy,  in  spite  of  the  anxiety 
at  his  failing  strength.  The  last  year,  a married  parish- 
ioner, a collier,  waited  on  him  as  tenderly  and  patiently 
as  a woman.  He  wheeled  the  Vicar  out  in  his  chair  in 
the  afternoon,  sometimes  info  cottages.  The  little 
children  loved  him  so,  that  they  gathered  round  his 
chair,  and  no  scolding  of  their  relations  would  keep 
them  away, — to  the  Vicar’s  great  delight.  I think  it  was 
remarkable  that  coming  to  Aberford  after  forty  years  of 
age,  he  should  have  loved  the  place  so  much ; for  there 
were  trials  and  hindrances  which  would  have  dis- 
couraged many,  and  made  them  think  they  must  change. 
He  was  quite  indignant  when  some  one  told  him  he  was 
wasted  in  such  a retired  position.  I remember  him  only 
once  making  application  for  any  thing,  and  f/mf  was  the 
Bampton  Lectureship.  He  sent  in  his  paper  to  the 
Provost,  who  gave  some  reason  against  it.  It  was  about 
two  years  after  our  marriage.  His  sermons  as  Select 
Preacher  were  over,  and  he  would  have  greatly  liked 
the  glimpses  of  the  old  Oxford  life  which  the  appoint- 
ment, had  it  been  made,  would  have  afforded  him.  But 
the  privilege  of  delivering  a course  of  Bampton  Lectures 
was  not  to  be  his.”  ^ . . . He  had  selected  the  early  chapters 
of  Genesis  for  the  subject  of  his  course. 

From  these  and  many  similar  notices  which  have 

^ Aberford,  3rd  July,  1884. 

VOL.  II. 


Z 


® June  28th,  1886. 


33^  Charles  Page  Eden:  [1885 

reached  me,  there  was  evidently  in  Charles  Page  Eden  a 
fixed  determination  to  devote  all  his  remaining  strength 
to  his  Master’s  service.  His  opinion  and  counsel  were 
largely  sought  by  the  neighbouring  Clergy.  More  than 
one  declared  afterwards, — “ I always  felt  the  better  for 
being  in  his  company.  His  self-denying  and  saintly 
life  was  an  example  to  us  all.”  . . . His  charitable  inter- 
pretation of  other  people’s  words  and  actions  increased 
as  he  drew  nearer  to  the  close  of  his  days.  A game- 
keeper  in  the  parish  remarked, — “ He  was  always  a 
peacemaker.”  . . . “ His  careful  and  regular  observance  of 
the  duty  of  self-examination  ” is  singled  out  for  remark 
by  her  who  knew  him  best.  “ He  never  neglected  it.” 

It  has  been  already  fully  implied  that  Eden’s  intel- 
lectual vigour  never  forsook  him.  He  always  had  some 
book  on  hand.  His  wife  relates  that  he  used  to  read 
aloud  to  her  of  an  evening,  and  during  the  last  Autumn 
had  entertained  her  with  an  English  translation  of 
the  ‘ ParacUso  ’ of  Dante.  He  read  to  himself  a sermon 
by  Isaac  Williams,  or  Newman,  or  Pusey,  every  day. 

How  calmly  he  looked  forward  to  the  great  change 
which  awaited  him,  is  shown  by  the  following  sentences, 
— traced  in  uncouth  trembling  characters, — to  a friend  of 
other  days : — “ I am  breaking  up,  not  to  say  broken. 
You  will  certainly  receive  a different  account  ere  long. 
Suffering,  but  with  great  comforts  . . . 'jrrjXiKOLs”^ 
This  was  written  on  the  30th  September,  1885. 

The  last  time  he  preached  (“  Gather  up  the  fragments 
that  remain”)  was  on  a Wednesday,  just  before  the 
beginniug  of  Advent, — a wild  and  rainy,  as  well  as  very 
dark  night.  On  reaching  the  Church  he  told  his  Curate 


* A.lluding  to  Galat.  vi.  ii. 


1885]  The  Earnest  Parish  Priest. 


339 


and  his  Clerk,  (an  old  and  trusted  helper),  that  he  doubted 
whether  he  ought  to  have  come,  and  reproached  himself 
for  the  distress  he  had  occasioned  his  Wife  by  coming. 
On  his  return  home  he  seemed  none  the  worse  for  the 
effort,  but  remarked  that  ‘ he  had  preached  for  the  last 
time.’ 

After  this,  he  grew  rapidly  weaker.  On  the  23rd  of 
November  appetite  and  strength  failed,  and  it  became 
evident  that  he  was  sinking.  He  requested  his  Wife 
daily  to  read  and  pray  by  his  side.  When  at  last 
his  son  arrived  out  of  Sussex,  he  received  at  his  hands 
the  Holy  Communion,  greatly  to  his  solace  and  satisfac- 
tion ; repeating  to  himself  the  “ comfortable  words  ” from 
time  to  time  throughout  the  day.  He  was  full  of  thank- 
fulness and  gratitude,  full  of  love  and  kindness  to  all. 
He  spoke  of  many  of  his  old  friends,  to  whom  his  mind 
was  evidently  reverting  at  the  last.  “ I must  wait  God’s 
time,”  he  said,  “ but  I long  to  be  at  rest.”  He  asked  his 
children  severally  what  would  be  their  hope  and  trust 
when  the  like  hour  came  to  them'?  spoke  to  his  Wife 
about  their  approaching  severance  ; and  asked  her  what 
she  thought  “ it  would  be  like  '?  ” meaning  dissolution.  It 
comforted  him  to  have  hymns  repeated  to  him.  The  last 
Psalms  he  followed  were  those  for  the  tenth  day. 

Late  at  night,  on  the  ensuing  Sunday,  it  became  clear 
to  his  Wife  and  Children,  who  were  assembled  round 
him,  that  the  end  had  arrived.  The  commendatory 
prayer  was  read  by  his  Son.  At  two  on  Monday  morn- 
ing (December  14,  1885)  his  spirit  passed  away. 

In  pursuance  with  his  request  that  he  might  be 
“ carried  to  the  grave  by  loving  hands,”  his  Choir  volun- 
teered their  services.  His  Curates,  with  whom  he  had 


340 


Charles  Page  Eden: 


[1885 

always  kept  up  his  connection,  and  whose  friendship  he 
greatly  valued,  assisted  in  the  Burial  Office,  and  followed 
their  loved  Vicar  to  the  grave.  His  first  Curate,  Canon 
Moore,  came  up  all  the  way  from  Truro  for  that  purpose. 
What  need  to  add  that  by  his  parishioners,  to  whom  for 
five-and-thirty  years,  in  life  and  in  death,  he  had  so 
faithfully  ministered,  Charles  Page  Eden  was  sincerely 
revered,  as  well  as  cherished,  and  for  many  a year  to 
come  will  be  faithfully  lamented  ? 

I propose  to  conclude  the  foregoing  sketch  of  a truly 
exemjplary  life  in  a somewhat  unusual  way, — namely,  by 
appending  to  it  part  of  one  of  Eden’s  unpublished  sermons. 
It  was  preached  in  York  Minster  on  Quinquagesima 
Sunday,  1881  ; its  text,  Isaiah  Ivii.  2:  its  subject,  “ The 
Intermediate  State.”  I seem  to  hear  the  interesting, 
earnest,  thoughtful  cadences  of  the  preachers  voice,  while 
I read  as  follows : — 

“ Once  more.  There  are  who  entertain  the  thought  of 
more  than  probation,  even  of  a reversal  of  doom  in  the 
unseen  world.  They  claim  it  in  the  interests  of  Divine 
Mercy.  I have  not  space  to  allude  even  to  the  arguments 
wherewith  this  extreme  view  is  sustained  ; nor  is  it 
needful  perhaps  for  the  edification  of  those  who  now  hear 
me.  I am  content  to  say  that  those  who  desire  to 
expatiate  in  that  topic,  (the  sunshine  of  the  Divine 
benevolence,)  may  find  a safer  direction  for  their  thoughts 
than  in  the  attempt  to  reset  the  ancient  sentence  that 
‘ in  the  place  where  the  tree  falleth,  there  it  shall  be.’  ^ 
Let  them  be  content  to  draw  more  mercifully  than 
perhaps  they  have  been  wont,  their  line  of  who  may  be 
hoped  to  be  in  the  state  of  grace,  ‘in  Mercy’s  sight.’ 
God  looketh  on  the  heart;  and  reads  perhaps  the  dis- 
positions which  He  loves,  where  men  fail  to  discern  them. 
There  may  be  an  orthodoxy,  cold  and  rigid,  which  hath 
little  of  the  mindoi  the  Gospel.  There  may  be  minds  very 

® Eccl.  xi.  3. 


1885]  The  Earnest  Parish  Priest.  341 

imperfectly  enlightened  as  to  the  doctrines  of  the  Divine 
scheme,  (like  that  of  the  poor  woman  who  thought  she 
could  come  and  touch  Christ’s  garment  without  His 
knowing  it),  but  in  whom  the  principle  of  Faith  is  clear 
and  strong,  and  whom  Christ  judges  thereby.  There  may 
be  the  other  poor  woman  whom  man  would  push  aside, 
but  whom  Christ  permits  even  to  touch  His  sacred 
Person,  because  ‘ she  loved  much.’  Let  the  assertors  of 
Divine  Mercy  expatiate  in  that  direction.  They  believe, 
doubtless,  that  heathens  may  be  saved  through  Christ, 
if  God  sees  in  them  the  mind  which  in  the  believer 
accepts  Christ  ; and  would,  had  it  known  Him,  heartily 
have  accepted  Him  unto  Salvation.  Let  them  be  con- 
tent that  Divine  Mercy  deal  by  like  measure  with  those 
who,  in  a Christian  country,  are  practically  in  a like  case 
with  the  heathen. 

“ The  pastor  of  a large  parish  knows  what  I mean.  He 
has  learned,  after  a long  experience,  to  judge  gently  of 
his  people,  and  in  particular  to  give  weight  to  their 
domestic  and  neighbourly  charities  among  themselves ; 
remembering  how  remarkably  this  feature  is  brought 
forward  in  our  Lord’s  picture  of  the  final  Judgment, 
where  all  nations  are  gathered  before  the  throne,  and, 
(there  being  many  who  could  not  have  heard  of  Christ), 
are  judged  by  the  rule  of  Charity;  and  the  merciful  and 
considerate  are  put  on  Christ’s  right  hand, — the  op- 
posite characters,  on  His  left.  Yes,  never  let  it  be 
forgotten,  (and  God  be  thanked  for  the  information !) 
that  in  the  Last  Day  many  shall  find  a gracious  accept- 
ance of  their  lives  and  persons  which  they  dreamed  not 
of.  ‘ Lord,  when  saw  we  Thee  ’ — and  so  on ; and 
Jesus  shall  tell  them  when ; and  shall  deal  with  them 
accordingly,  shall  set  them  on  His  right  hand.  ^ 

“ Do  I mean  that  it  is  matter  of  indifierence  whether 
we  name  Christ’s  Name,  and  look  for  acceptance 
through  Him  and  Him  alone  ? No,  brethren,  we  are 
in  the  light.  I speak  of  those  to  whom  little  has  been 
given,  little  light,  and  whom  God  can  judge  according 
to  that  little.  May  we,  meantime,  hope  much  ; diligent 

® S,  Matth.  XXV.  31-46. 


342 


Charles  Page  Eden. 


[1885 

to  shew  to  others  the  light  we  have,  to  reach  to  them 
the  torch  which  God  has  put  into  our  hands,  may  we 
cultivate  in  ourselves  the  mind  which  shall  prepare  us, 
under  God’s  Mercy,  for  the  place  of  rest  and  tranquil 
hope.  Thither  the  chastened  soul  takes  its  flight  when 
life’s  conflict  is  over.  Yea,  and  at  once,  as  far  as 
we  are  told.  The  Judgment  Day  looks  distant,  but  the 
place  of  rest  is  near : life’s  last  moment  joins  on  to  the 
first  experience  of  Paradise  ; we  hear  the  word  from 
white  and  quivering  lips,  ‘ Come,  LoED.’  We  all  but 
hear  the  reply, — we  all  but  see  the  gate  open, — the 
blessed  ‘mansion’  receive  its  guest!  The  departed 
one  comes  back  to  us  in  the  hour  of  prayer  and 
Communion,  not  to  tell  us  what  Paradise  is — [that 
could  not  be !) — but  to  cheer  us  in  our  warfare,  as 
with  the  silent  message, — ‘ O could  you  know  what 
we  know  1 


(XII).  CHARLES  LONGHET 
HIGGINS : 

THE  GOOD  LAYMAN. 

[A.D.  1806—1885.] 

XT  is  not  often  that  the  grave  closes  over  one  who, 
without  claiming  to  be  in  the  ordinary  sense  of 
the  word  “ a public  man,”  has  been  so  widely  known, 
beloved,  revered,  throughout  his  native  county  and 
neighbourhood,  and  indeed  far  beyond  it,  as  the  dear 
friend  and  brother,  the  story  of  whose  precious  life  I am 
about  to  trace  in  briefest  outline.  Sitting  in  his  library, 
surrounded  by  the  books  which  till  yesterday  he  called 
his  own, — (he  used  playfully  to  call  the  library  mine,  so 
many  long  studious  days  have  I passed  without  stirring, 
or  wishing  to  stir,  from  my  place  near  the  window), — 
I find  it  difficult  to  divest  myself  of  the  belief  that  he 
may  at  any  moment  enter  in  quest  of  a volume,  or  to 
exchange  words  of  kindness  with  me.  It  is  a strange 
and  a sad  sensation  with  which  to  set  about  disentangling 
the  pleasant  memories  of  half  a century  of  years  ; and  to 
write  of  one  who  has  so  recently  entered  upon  his 
‘ Saint’s  rest.’ 

Charles  Longuet,  eldest  of  the  three  children  of  John 
Higgins,  esq.  of  Turvey  Abbey,  Bedfordshire,  was  born 


344  Charles  Lonouet  Higgins:  [1727 

under  bis  Father’s  roof  on  S.  Andrew’s  Day,  1806.  Five 
generations  at  least  of  his  forefathers  had  resided  at 
Weston  Underwood, — a pleasant  Buckinghamshire  village 
about  six  miles  distant  from  Turvey,  where  by  the  latter 
part  of  the  xviith  century  they  had  grown  into  two 
distinct  families.  John  and  Bartholomew,  cousins, 
(grandsons  of  Hugh  Higgins  ‘the  elder’),  then  respec- 
tively married  Ann  and  Elizabeth,  daughters  of  Charles 
Kilpin,  esq.  by  Ann,  sister  of  Bartholomew  Clarke  of 
Hardingstone,  whose  only  daughter  and  heiress  married 
Sir  Jacob  Bouverie,  afterwards  Lord  Folkestone.  Charles 
Higgins,  born  in  1727,  (second  son  of  John  and  Ann), — 
Sheriff  of  London  in  1786-7, — was  the  first  to  reside  at 
Turvey  Abbey,  having  purchased  the  manor  of  Turvey 
in  the  same  year,  together  with  a considerable  estate  in 
the  parish,  of  Charles  Henry,  fifth  and  last  Earl  of 
Peterborough.^  He  was  one  of  those  with  whom  love 
of  kindred,  joined  to  an  ardent  attachment  to  their 
birthplace,  is  the  ruling  passion  of  their  lives.  His  one 
ambition  throughout  a long,  honourable  and  successful 
career,  had  been  to  end  his  days  amid  the  friends  of  his 
youth,  and  in  the  scenes  of  his  boyhood.  I have  heard 
him  described  as  a man  of  large  charity  (to  which  indeed 
his  local  benefactions  bear  sufficient  testimony),  earnest 
but  unpretending  piety,  much  kindness  of  heart.  He  it 
was  who  established  the  Sunday  School  at  Turvey  in 
1790.  Thomas  Scott,  the  Commentator,  relates, — 

“A  house  at  Weston  belonging  to  Mr.  Charles  Higgins 
became  vacant  and  was  offered  to  me  at  less  than  half 
the  rent  which  I had  previously  paid.  I accordingly 

* In  the  person  of  this  nobleman  soil  of  Turvey  before  the  time  of 
expired  (in  1814)  the  honours  of  .King  Richard  I.  Several  particu- 
an  illustrious  and  powerful  house  lars  concerning  this  family  will  be 
which,  coming  over  with  William  found  in  the  ensuing  pages, 
the  Norman,  had  been  lords  of  the 


1768] 


The  Good  Layman. 


345 


removed  to  Mr.  H.  took  no  rent  of  me,  but  a 

hamper  of  pears  annually  from  a fine  tree  in  the  garden, 
— for  which  he  regularly  sent  me  a receipt.”  ^ 

Dying  unmarried  at  the  age  of  66  in  179'^?  ke  became 
the  founder  of  two  families.  His  favourite  nephew, 
John,  was  the  father  of  the  subject  of  the  present 
memoir.  He  succeeded  his  uncle  at  Turvey  Abbey  in 
the  ensuing  year. 

Of  this  gentleman,  who  was  born  at  Weston  Under- 
wood May  3rd,  1768,  the  only  son  of  singularly  virtuous 
parents,  my  memory  furnishes  the  living  image.  He 
was  a country  Squire  of  the  best  type ; not  by  any 
means  disinclined  to  the  traditionary  delights  of  his 
class,  but  with  a soul  above  them.  A Tory  in  politics 
(of  course),  he  cherished  wholesome  traditions  concerning 
“ Church  and  King.”  His  domestics  never  left  him : in 
three  instances  he  had  had  servants  for  three  generations 
out  of  the  same  family.  Landscape-gardening  and 
concern  for  his  tenantry  were  his  prevailing  hobhies. 
But  then  he  possessed  much  refinement, — was  a capital 
letter-writer, — had  a taste  which  amounted  to  a passion 
for  poetry,  painting,  antiquities,  books, — was  beyond  all 
things  a lover  of  goodness,  and  conspicuously  “ a lover 
of  good  men.”  Given  to  hospitality,  he  had  an  ample 
fund  of  agreeable  stories, — some  of  which  I have  heard 
him  tell  more  than  once.  Not  a few  quaint  sayings  too 


^ He  removed  from  the  pictur- 
esque house  by  the  road-side,  called 
‘ The  Lodge,’  which  was  subse- 
quently occupied  by  the  poet  Cow- 
per. 

® Life, — p.  1 26.  ‘ Pear-tree  house’ 
is  quite  a picturesque  object  in 
Weston  Underwood.  The  same 
rent  continued  to  be  paid  to  Mr. 


John  Higgins  until  Scott’s  death. 
In  that  house  Scott  wrote  his 
^ Force  of  Truth,'' — of  which  the 
first  edition  is  dated  Feb.  1779. 

icas  revised  hy  Mr.  Cowper,” 
writes  the  author;  “and,  as  to 
style  and  externals,  but  not  other- 
wise, considerably  improved  by  his 
advice.”  {Ibid,  p.  127.) 


346  Charles  Longuet  Higgins:  [1785 

he  had,  which — like  his  wine — had  the  merit  of  being 
old  and  wholesome. 

A kinder  host,  a more  agreeable  and  entertaining 
companion,  is  rarely  to  be  met  with.  Once,  on  hearing 
me  speak  with  rapture  of  the  pleasure  I had  derived 
from  an  exquisite  portrait  of  ‘ Nelly  O’Brien  ’ by 
Re3molds,  he  kindled  with  emotion, — described  how  very 
lovely  she  was, — recalled  his  young  days  when  she  was 
a toast  at  Northampton,  and  when  to  win  her  hand  for 
a dance  used  to  be  a prime  object  of  ambition  with 
every  young  man  in  the  room.  He  was  old  enough 
to  remember  a ball  at  (what  are  noio)  ‘ Houghton  Ruins,’ 
near  Ampthill.  He  had  been  a patron  of  William 
Collins,  R.A., — one  of  whose  sweetly  painted  pictures 
(‘Boys  bird-nesting,’  executed  in  1826),  hangs  in  the 
drawing-room ; ^ and  he  had  many  amusing  things  to 
tell  about  the  painter  while  on  a visit  to  Turvey. 
Especially  interesting  was  it  to  hear  him  descant  on 
certain  passages  in  his  own  youthful  life; — as,  the 
supreme  benefit  which  (thanks  to  his  pious  parents) 
Scott’s  ministry  had  been  to  himself  in  what  must 
have  been  for  the  Church  a dismally  dark  day.^ 


^ In  a letter  (dated  ii  Neio 
Cavendish  Street,  March  28,  1826), 
the  artist  writes, — ‘‘During  the 
summer  and  autumn  I painted 
two  pictures, — a group  of  children 
picking  hops,  and  a large  one  of 
prawn-fishers,  for  the  King.  The 
former,  I intend  for  the  Exhibition  : 
the  latter,  I took  by  his  Majesty’s 
desire  to  the  Lodge  at  Windsor, 
where  I had  the  honour  of  an  in- 
terview,— which  was,  I assure  you, 
one  of  the  most  gratifying  circum- 
stances of  my  professional  career.” 


® “ My  congregations  ” (Scott  re- 
lates) “ were  small  but  very  select : 
at  Ravenstone,  on  an  average,  not 
more  than  40  : afterwards,  at  Olney, 
(though  that  town  contained  about 
2500  inhabitants,)  seldom  above  50 
or  60:  and  at  Weston,  often  under 
30.” — Life  of  Scott,  p.  160.  He 
went  to  Ravenstone  in  1775:  re- 
moved to  Weston  Underwood  in 
1777:  to  Olney  in  1781:  to  Lon- 
don in  1785.  His  three  country 
cures  are  all  within  a couple  of 
miles  of  each  other. 


1785]  The  Good  Layman.  347 

“ Scott’s  energy  in  the  pulpit  ” (writes  Charles  Longuet, 
his  son,) 

“ was  considerable ; but  being  afflicted  at  times  with 
asthma,  he  was  often  obliged  to  stop  in  the  midst  of 
his  discourse  to  regain  breath.  Then,  leaning  forward, 
with  a flourish  of  his  arm  in  the  air,  and  with  what 
almost  amounted  to  a shriek,  he  would  commence  again. 
It  was  on  such  an  occasion,  that,  having  attracted  the 
wondering  attention  of  my  Father  who  was  then  quite 
a lad,  and  who  was  sitting  just  below  the  pulpit, — 
perhaps  with  a smile  on  his  countenance  at  the  grotesque 
manner  of  the  dear  old  man, — Scott,  thrusting  out  his 
arm  straight  towards  him  with  an  unusually  vigorous 
flourish  of  the  fist,  ejaculated — ‘It  is  very  commonly 
said  the  devil  is  in  you,  but  you  little  think  how  true 
it  is.’  ” 

One  of  the  preacher’s  shrewd  maxims  was  this, — “When 
a man  has  not  a good  reason  for  doing  a thing,  he  has  a 
very  good  reason  for  letting  it  alone.”  “ I have  often  ” 
(my  informant  added)  “ acted  on  Mr.  Scott’s  saying,  and 
found  the  benefit  of  it.”  Cardinal  Newman  speaks  of 
“ Thomas  Scott  of  Aston  Sandford  ” as, — 

“ The  writer  who  made  a deeper  impression  on  my 
mind  than  any  other,  and  to  whom  (humanly  speaking) 
I almost  owe  my  soul.  I so  admired  and  delighted  in 
his  writings,  that,  when  I was  an  undergraduate,  I 
thought  of  making  a visit  to  his  Parsonage,  in  order 
to  see  a man  whom  I so  deeply  revered.  I had  been 
possessed  of  his  Essays  from  a boy ; his  Commentary 
I bought  when  I was  an  undergraduate.”  ® 

Interesting  beyond  all  things,  however,  were  my  friend’s 
recollections  of  the  graceful  hospitalities  of  ‘Weston 
Hall,’  the  picturesque  old  mansion  of  the  Throckmortons, 
where  he  always  found  delightful  society.  This  invari- 
ably led  him  off  into  something  entertaining  concerning 

® Ajpologia, — p.  6o. 


348  Charles  Longuet  Higgins:  [1786 

the  poet  Cowper,  who,  in  November  1786,  at  his  cousin 
Lady  Hesketh’s  suggestion  and  the  Throckmortons’ 
request,  had  removed  from  his  house  in  the  Market-place 
of  Olney  in  order  to  reside  at  Weston,  (only  two  miles 
distant),  in  what  was  called  “ the  Lodge.”  There  the 
poet  spent  what  proved  to  be  the  nine  happiest  years  of 
his  life. 

He  had  just  emerged  into  celebrity  by  the  publication, 
at  the  end  of  four  years,  (namely  in  1785,)  of  a second 
volume  of  poems,  which  caused  him  to  be  at  once 
recognized  as  one  of  the  most  successful  of  English  poets. 
My  friend  was  then  but  18  years  of  age.  On  learning 
that  a neighbour  of  his  was  able  to  repeat  any  of  his 
poems  by  heart,  Cowper  invited  his  youthful  admirer  to 
‘ a dish  of  tea’  ; which  was  the  beginning  of  a friendship  to 
which  Mr.  Higgins  ever  after  reverted  with  affectionate 
delight  and  excusable  pride. 

I greatly  regret  that  I never  committed  to  writing  the 
entertaining  reminiscences  which  Mr.  Higgins,  when  first 
I knew  him,  used  to  produce  concerning  Cowper, — Mrs. 
Unwin, — Lady  Austen, — Lady  Hesketh, — and  the  two 
accomplished  and  cultivated  brothers,  John  and  George 
Throckmorton.  These  must  have  formed  a delightful 
group  indeed,  to  which  John  Newton,  (Curate  of  Olney 
from  1765  to  1779,)  contributed  an  interesting,  though  a 
somewhat  grotesque,  element.  Of  Mr.  (afterwards  Sir) 
John  Throckmorton,  the  poet  writes  : — 

“ It  is  not  possible  to  conceive  a more  engaging  and 
agreeable  character  than  the  gentleman’s, — or  a more 
consummate  assemblage  of  all  that  is  called  good- 
nature, complaisance,  and  innocent  cheerfulness  than  is 
to  be  seen  in  the  Lady.”  ^ 

’’  He  and  Mrs. Unwin  had  arrived  ® (May  loth,  1784.)  Correspond- 

there  Oct.  14th,  1767.  ence, — i.  324. 


The  Good  Layman. 


1787] 


349 


Between  the  inmates  of  ‘ the  Hall  ’ and  of  ‘ the  Lodge  ’ 
there  was  constant  intercourse. 

“ There  are  few  days  in  which  we  do  not  meet,”  (writes 
the  poet  to  his  cousin,  Lady  Hesketh,)  “ and  I am  now 
almost  as  much  at  home  in  their  house  as  in  our  own. 
Mr.  Throckmorton  having  long  since  pat  me  in  possession 
of  all  his  grounds,  has  now  given  me  possession  of  his 
library : an  acquisition  of  great  value  to  me,  who  never 
have  been  able  to  live  without  books  since  I first  knew 

my  letters,  and  who  have  no  books  of  my  own 

Mr.  George  Throckmorton  is  at  the  Hall,  and  the  whole 
party  drink  tea  with  us  this  evening.”  ^ 


It  is  evident  from  many  a hint  in  Cowper’s  letters,  and 
especially  from  what  I used  to  pick  up  from  Mr.  Higgins, 
that  the  great  charm  of  those  social  gatherings  was  the 
table-talk  ; to  which — what  need  to  say  it  ? — Cowper  was 
ever  the  chief  contributor.  “We  dined  yesterday  at  the 
Hall,”  (writes  the  same  to  the  same,  a few  months  later,) 
“ and  spent  our  four  or  five  hours  there  very  agreeably, — 
as  we  always  do,  except  when  the  company  is  too  large  for 
conversation!'  ^ Mr.  Higgins  used  to  explain  that  it  was 
not  so  much  what  “ Mr.  Cowper  ” said,  as  the  way  he  said 
it, — his  manner  of  relating  an  ordinary  incident, — which 
charmed  his  auditory,  or  convulsed  them  with  merriment. 
Moreover,  they  knew  that  something  delightful  was  com- 
ing before  it  came.  His  eye  would  suddenly  kindle  and 
all  his  face  become  lighted  up  with  the  fun  of  the  story, 


® ‘ The  Lodge,  Aug.  30th,  1787.’ 

^ Hayley  (i.  262-3)  withholds  the 
first  half  of  the  letter  from  which 
I quote.  And  why  does  he  sup- 
press Cowper’s  tribute  to  Mr,  George 
Throckmorton’s  pleasantness  ? “ He 
has  too  a considerable  share  of 
drollery  and  quickness,  of  thought 
and  fancy,  of  a kind  which  none  of 


the  family  seem  to  partake  with 
him.” 

The  dinner-hour  of  those  days 
must  have  been  a wondrous  early 
one  (I  believe  it  was  3 o’cloclc),  for 
Cowper  elsewhere  speaks  of  par- 
taking of  “ supper  ” after  his  return 
home. 


350 


Charles  Longuet  Higgins:  [1788 

before  lie  opened  his  lips  to  speak  At  last  he  began  to 
relate  some  ludicrous  incident, — which,  although  you  had 
yourself  witnessed  it,  you  had  failed  to  recognize  as 
mirthful.  A bull  had  frightened  him  and  caused  him  to 
clear  a hedge  with  undue  precipitancy.  His  ‘ shorts  ’ 
became  seriously  lacerated  ; and  the  consternation  with 
w^hich  their  modest  occupant  had  effected  his  retreat 
home, — holding  his  garments  together,  in  order  that  his 
calamity  might  escape  detection, — was  made  extrava- 
gantly diverting. — Once,  in  the  grey  of  the  evening, 
while  adjusting  his  shoe-buckle  on  the  step  of  a stile,  the 
village  post-woman  advanced  towards  him,  and  on 
reaching  the  stile, — little  dreaming  who  was  behind  it,  and 
what  he  was  about, — inadvertently  planted  the  sole  of 
her  foot  on  the  back  of  the  poet’s  head.  He, — as  little 
dreaming  who  was  overhead, — tossing  up  suddenly, 
seemed  to  himself  to  have  caused  the  astonished  female  to 
make  a kind  of  rotatory  somersault  in  the  air. — The  fun 
of  such  described  adventures  of  course  depended  in  part 
on  your  knowledge  of  the  persons  and  of  the  localities 
discoursed  of ; but  above  all,  it  resulted  from  the  playful 
humour, — call  it  rather  wit, — which  was  at  all  times  pre- 
pared to  construct  out  of  the  slenderest  materials  an 
amusing  incident.  So  ready  and  so  graceful  in  fact 
was  the  poet’s  fancy,  that  he  knew  how  to  make  an 
amusing  story  out  of  710th  ing.  Did  there  exist  any 

way  of  writing  down  the  buzzing  of  a gnat,— so  as  to 
distinguish  the  droning  noise  he  makes  at  the  distance, 
from  the  stridulous  sound  by  which  he  announces 
that  he  has  at  last  found  you  out  on  your  sleep- 
less pillow, — I would  convincingly  illustrate  what  I 
have  just  been  saying.  But  it  is  ifiot  possible  ; and 

^ The  reader  is  invited  to  refer  back  to  what  was  said  concerning  Dean 
Mansel, — pp.  210-11. 


1789]  The  Good  Layman.  351 

so,  the  story  must  remain  unwritten,  and  at  last  depart 
with  me. 

Aware  of  his  reverential  admiration  of  Cowper,  Mrs. 
Unwin  used  to  indulge  Mr.  John  Higgins  with  a sight  of 
many  of  the  poet’s  lesser  efforts, — “ spic  and  span  ” as  she 
phrased  it, — transcribed  in  her  own  beautiful  Italian 
hand.  One  of  her  communications  lies  before  me  : — 

“ Mrs.  Unwin  presents  compliments  to  Mr.  Higgins, 
and  as  she  is  no  stranger  to  his  partiality  for  Mr.  Cowper’s 
poetical  productions,  has  sent  him  two  spic  and  span  new 
pieces.  One  bears  its  origin  on  its  face.  The  other  is 
addressed  to  a Miss  Stapleton, — a very  amiable  young 
Lady  who  was  lately  at  the  Hall ; sings  finely,  and  as 
soon  as  requested. 

“Thus  Mrs.  Unwin  would  endeavour  to  make  some 
little  return  to  Mr.  Higgins  for  the  ornament  he  lately 
gave  to  the  study.  His  drawing  is  framed  and  glazed, 
and  the  execution  of  it  is  much  admired  by  all  who 
have  seen  it.” 

The  note  is  unfortunately  undated.  But  if  (as  I 
suspect)  it  refers  to  ‘ the  Cochfighter  s garland',  ^ it  must 
have  been  written  in  May  1789.  However  this  may  be, 
“ Miss  Stapleton”  became  in  1792  the  wife  of  Mr.  (after- 
wards Sir)  George  Throckmorton,  and  is  the  “ Catharina” 
to  whom  the  poet  addressed  the  well-known  verses  in 
which  her  delightful  voice  and  skill  on  the  harpsichord 
are  so  gracefully  commemorated.  Of  the  many  notes 
addressed  to  himself  which  he  once  possessed,  (the  rest 
had  been  begged  by  friends  as  autographs),  Mr.  John 
Higgins  retained  none  but  the  following.  It  evidently 
belongs  to  the  first  days  of  Cowper’s  residence  at 
Weston : — 

“ Mr.  Cowper  presents  his  compliments  to  Mr.  Higgins, 

® Only  two  other  of  Cowper’s  — “ Pairing  time  anticipated  ” and 
pieces  transcribed  by  Mrs.  Unwin  “ The  needless  alarmP 
have  been  preserved  by  the  family, 


352  Charles  Longuet  Higgins:  [1791 

and  the  following  extract  from  Lady  Hesketh’s  letter : — 
‘ I send  a waistcoat,  which  I beg  you  will  present  in  my 
name  to  Mr.  John  Higgins.  It  is  a miserable  return  for 
his  beautiful  drawings,  but  he  must  consider  it  as  the 
widow’s  mite.  Did  I know  anything  that  would  be  use- 
ful or  acceptable  to  him,  either  in  the  drawing  way,  or  in 
any  other,  I should  be  happy  to  send  it  him.  Pray  tell 
him  his  performances  are  approved  by  everybody. 
People  regret  that  he  is  born  to  affluence  since  it 
threatens  to  deprive  the  wmrld  of  such  a genius.’ — Mr. 
Cowper  will  expect  the  pleasure  of  Mr.  Higgins’  company 
at  tea  this  afternoon.” 

It  was  for  the  monument  of  John’s  excellent  Mother  in 
Weston  Church  (1791),  that  the  poet  wrote  the  well- 
known  Epitaph,  (it  appears  among  his  poems,)  beginning 
— ‘ Laurels  may  flourish  round  the  conqueror’s  tomb.’ — 
My  friend  told  me  that,  in  the  summer  of  1792,  often 
standing  by  while  B.  Abbot,  R.A.  was  painting  Cowper ’s 
portrait,  on  a certain  occasion  he  sat  for  the  hand, — the 
poet,  weary  of  sitting,  having  forsaken  his  chair.  Those 
of  Cowper’s  admirers  who  possess  a silhouette  of  him  in 
which  a slice  has  evidently  been  scraped  away  from  the 
back  of  his  wig,  may  care  to  be  told  that  the  very  strik- 
ing likeness  in  question  was  obtained  by  reducing  a 
shadow  of  the  poet’s  profile  made  by  Mr.  Higgins  in  1791, 
— with  which  Lady  Hesketh  would  not  be  content  until 
‘ a trifle  ’ more  than  the  shadow  justified  had  been  taken 
off.  The  flatness  of  the  back  of  Cowper’s  head  was 
even  extraordinary.  The  ensuing  winter  (1792)  was 
Mr.  Higgins’  last  at  Weston.  Three  years  later  Cowper 
himself  took  leave  of  the  village, — on  which  occasion  he  is 
found  to  have  inscribed  at  the  back  of  the  shutter  of  his 
bedroom  window  the  mournful  distich  at  foot  of  the  page. 
At  the  end  of  about  five-and-thirty  years,  my  brother 
discovered  the  words,  and  sent  me  a copy  of  them  in 


1795] 


The  Good  Layman. 


353 


a letter.  ^ Cowper  had  promised  Mr.  Higgins  to  pay  him 
a visit  at  Turvey  before  he  left  Weston  for  ever ; but 
the  intention  had  been  formed  too  late. 


I may  be  thought  to  have  enlarged  unreasonably,  and 
lingered  unduly,  on  Weston  and  the  poet  Cowper.  My 
excuse  must  be  that  such  as  these  were  the  traditions  of 
the  boyhood  of  the  dear  friend  and  brother  of  whose 
life  I have  undertaken  to  write  some  account.  The 
memory  of  Cowper  and  of  Cowper’s  intimates  is  in- 
separably bound  up  with  the  latest  as  well  as  with  the 
earliest  associations  of  his  life.  Certain  relics  too  of  the 
poet  he  possessed  and  cherished.  Thus,  he  constantly 
wore  Cowper’s  shoe-buckles.®  The  chest  of  drawers  in 
which  ‘ The  Retired  Cat  ’ ensconced  herself  stood  in  his 
bedroom.  In  an  adjoining  chamber  is  a chair  furnished 
with  three  wheels — (it  had  belonged  to  the  Throck- 
mortons) — in  connection  with  which  his  Father  used  to 
describe  the  poet’s  comical  distress  at  finding  himself  on 
a certain  occasion  (like  his  own  ‘John  Gilpin’)  taking 
a longer  journey  than  he  intended.  A merry  party  of 
young  people,  having  first  set  open  the  doors  of  every 
passage-room  in  Weston  Hall,  persuaded  Cowper  to 
seat  himself  comfortably  in  the  aforesaid  chair  ; and 
then, — paying  no  manner  of  attention  to  his  urgent 


* Farewell,  dear  scenes,  for  ever 
closed  to  me ! 

Oh,  for  what  sorrow  must  I now 
exchange  you. 

July  28,  1795. 

^ They  had  been  given  to  the 
poet’s  friend  and  neighbour,  the 
Rev.  John  Buchanan  (perpetual 
Curate  of  Weston  Underwood) ; at 
whose  death,  in  1826,  they  were 
presented  to  Mr.  John  Higgins  by 
Mr.  Buchanan’s  cousin  and  execu- 


tor.— A note  lies  before  me  (ad- 
dressed by  Mrs.  Courtenay  [Cow- 
per’s ‘ Catharina  ’]  to  Mr.  Buchanan) 
inviting  him  to  dinner  at  the  Hall : 
— “ Mr.  Courtenay  has  a whimsical 
wish  come  into  his  head,  that  he 
should  very  much  like  to  have  a 
sight  of  Mr.  Cowper’s  old  buckles, 
which  are  in  your  possession.  Per- 
haps you  will  be  so  kind  as  to  bring 
them  with  you.” 


A a 


VOL.  II. 


354  Charles  Longuet  Higgins:  [1793 

entreaties  that  they  would  stop, — whirled  him,  in 
triumph  and  in  laughter,  up  and  down  the  whole 
length  of  the  mansion. — Cowper’s  verses  were  ever  on 
my  brother’s  lips ; and  the  scenery  of  ‘ The  Task  ’ was 
more  dear,  as  well  as  more  familiar,  to  him,  than  any 
in  the  world, — excepting  always  the  immediate  environ- 
ments of  his  own  happy  home.  Let  me  be  permitted  to 
add,  that  the  more  I survey  the  idyll  of  which  I have 
been  endeavouring,  in  what  precedes,  to  convey  to  the 
reader  some  general  notion, — the  more  attached  to  it 
do  I become.  It  is  really  strange  to  what  an  extent  the 
genius  of  Cowper, — his  poems,  his  letters,  his  life, — 
have  thrown  an  atmosphere  of  interest,  a halo  of  glory 
rather,  over  all  the  surroundings  of  Olney  and  of 
Weston;  breathed  a soul,  as  it  were,  into  the  landscape 
which  he  loved,  and  peopled  the  broad  silent  street  of 
the  former  village, — the  deserted  highway  of  the  latter, 
— with  undying  forms,  and  none  but  graceful  images  or 
harmonious  echoes.  The  picturesque  mansion  of  the 
Throckmortons  was  dismantled  in  1828,®  but  many  an 
adjunct  of  their  ancient  dwelling, — ‘ the  wilderness,’ 
‘ the  avenue,’  ‘ the  alcove,’  ‘ the  shrubbery,’ — yet  sur- 
vives. Neglect  (what  wonder?)  is  written  everywhere: 
but  there  is  a nameless  grace  which  seems  as  if  it  must 
cleave  to  that  pleasant  locality  for  ever.  The  figures 
are  gone,  but  the  frame-work  of  the  picture,  so  to  speak, 
at  the  end  of  100  years  remains  unchanged.  Nay,  the 
place  in  a manner  repairs  its  losses  by  gaining  in  tender 
interest  from  year  to  year.  And  now,  to  turn  the  page. 

After  the  alienation  of  14  lordships  in  Bedfordshire  and 
Bucks  in  the  reign  of  Queen  Anne,  the  parish  of  Turvey 

® Immediately  before  its  demolition,  Mr.  Higgins  made  drawings  of  its 
four  sides.  These  have  been  privately  lithographed. 


The  Good  Layman, 


355 


1804] 

(in  the  former  county)  alone  remained  to  the  Mordaunts.  It 
was  the  centre  of  their  vast  territorial  splendour, — the  lord- 
ship  from  which  they  derived  their  earliest  title.  Here  was 
the  original  seat  of  the  family  (‘  Turvey  Hall  ’),  of  which 
not  a vestige,  nor  (it  is  thought)  a representation  of  any 
sort,  at  this  time  survives, — though  its  site  is  plainly 
marked  by  the  remains  of  foundations,  fishponds,  and 
those  many  peculiar  irregularities  of  the  soil  which  in- 
variably indicate  the  whereabouts  of  an  ancient  man- 
sion. The  park  or  chase  abounded  with  game, — every 
hill  and  dale  being  thickly  covered  with  ancestral  forest 
timber.  But  there  had  been  made  a general  clearance 
of  trees  previously  to  the  enclosure  of  the  parish,  and  the 
immediately  subsequent  dismemberment  of  the  Turvey 
estate,  in  1786-7:  so  that,  on  succeeding  to  his  uncle’s 
property  in  1793,  John  Higgins  found  himself  the 
owner  of  bare  acres  surrounding  the  old  house  (it  dates 
in  part  from  the  time  of  Henry  viith)  which  had  long 
been  called  “ Turvey  Abbey,” — it  is  supposed  from  some 
tributary  connection  with  the  Abbey  of  Bee,  in  Nor-'j 
mandy.  He  set  about  planting  in  every  direction, — in 
a soil  highly  favourable  to  the  growth  of  timber,  as  the 
present  aspect  of  the  place  abundantly  attests.  When 
I first  visited  Turvey  (viz.  in  1832)  the  road,  at  noon  of 
day,  was  literally  as  dark  as  night  to  one  nearing  the 
village  from  Bedford.  The  garden  front  was  most 
inconveniently  embowered, — hurled  rather, — in  forest 
trees. 

In  1804  (November  ist),  he  married  Theresa,  eldest  of 
the  four  daughters,  co-heiresses,  of  Benjamin  Longuet, 
esq.  of  Louth  and  of  Bath.^  At  a long  subsequent  date, 

’ This  is  inferred  from  the  an-  ® The  Longuets  were  a Huguenot 
cient  fire-places.  The  dates  on  the  refugee  family.  In  consequence  of 
gables  are  ‘ 1603  ’ and  ‘ 1608.’  an  intermarriage  with  the  Lefroys, 

A a 2 


35^  Charles  Longuet  Higgins:  [1806 

their  son  and  heir, — born,  as  already  stated,  on  S.  An- 
drew’s Day,  1806, — thus  referred  to  the  event  in  a letter 
to  myself  written  almost  at  the  close  of  life,  carrying  in 
fact  its  own  date  on  its  front : — 

“ On  this  day  of  the  year,  seventy-nine  years  ago,  my 
dear  Father  and  Mother  were  married.  The  ceremony 
took  place  at  Queen  Square  Chapel,  Bath.  . . . My 
mother’s  youngest  sister  Maria  had  just  before  become 
the  wife  of  Richard  Orlebar  of  Hinwick  House.  He 
was  rather  short  of  stature  ; and  much  addicted,  like 
other  country  gentlemen,  to  fishing.  At  the  Bedford 
county  Ball,  which  occurred  just  after  our  mother’s 
wedding,  and  at  which  both  the  brides  appeared,  some 
amusement  was  occasioned  by  a gentleman  present 
accosting  Mrs.  Orlebar  with, — ‘ Ah,  Madam  ! You 
have  done  pretty  well.  You  have  caught  a very  nice 
little  Dickey.  But  your  sister  has  caught  the  great 
Jack.’ 

“ Do  you  remember  the  dinner  which  always  con- 
cluded the  ceremonies  of  the  anniversary,  at  which 
James  Chater  and  Thomas  Benbow  waited  in  pea-green 
coats,  cuffs  and  collars  turned  up  with  red,  a large  red 
waistcoat,  with  plush  shorts  and  white  stockings,  which 
displayed  calves  of  extraordinary  dimensions  1 

“ It  was  the  custom  of  those  days  to  have  all  the  sub- 
stantial viands  placed  on  the  table  at  once.  Six  or 
seven  ribs  of  roast-beef  stood  before  my  Father : a 
boiled  turkey  graced  my  Mother’s  end  of  the  table  ; and 
an  enormous  ham  figured  in  the  centre.  It  was  a 
marvel  how  people  could  eat  at  all  in  the  presence 
of  such  an  apparition : but,  on  the  contrary,  two 
assaults  on  the  first  only  seemed  to  be  provocative 
of  further  displays  of  vigour  with  reference  to  the 
second  and  third.  It  was  certainly  all  very  hospitable 
and  ‘jolly,’  but  I am  thankful  that  things  are  done 
somewhat  differently  now.  The  only  little  bit  of  colour, 

notices  of  them  are  found  in  the  General  Sir  J.  H.  Lefroy,  C.B.], — 
interesting  privately  printed  ^ His-  pp.  x,  xv,  xvi : 22,  69,  194. 
tory  of  the  Lefroy  family'  [by 


The  Good  Layman. 


357 


1814] 

in  the  way  of  floral  adornment,  was  the  pink  lobed 
seed-vessels  of  the  euonymus.  How  different  from  our 
own  happy  experience  ! The  dear  fingers  which  so 
lovingly  and  artistically  work  in  Deanery  and  Abbey 
gardens,  so  order  things,  that  the  whole  table  is  easily 
made  resplendent  with  flowers  of  every  hue. 

“ Forgive  me,  dear  old  Johnny,  for  recalling  such 
home  matters,  but  the  day  raised  up  glowing  memories 
in  my  mind,  and  my  heart  has  run  through  my  fingers 
into  my  pen.” 

A second  son,  Henry  Hugh,  was  born  in  1814;  the 
birth  of  an  only  daughter,  Mary,  having  preceded,  in 
1808.  The  education  of  the  two  young  men  was  con- 
ducted at  home, — not  very  triumphantly,  it  must  be 
confessed,  as  far  as  Greek  and  Latin  were  concerned  ; but 
in  Natural  History  they  made  themselves  great  profi- 
cients, and  to  all  the  manly  exercises  of  their  age  and 
condition  they  were  both  alike  enthusiastically  addicted. 
Let  the  younger  of  the  two  brothers  be  allowed  to  speak 
to  this  part  of  the  subject  for  himself.  He  is  addressing, 
as  President,  the  ‘ Liverpool  Naturalists^  Meld  Cluh  ’ ; ^ and 
while  professing  to  review  ‘ Thomas  Bewick  and  his  Bencil- 
lings  of  Seelies  in  Winter^  he  reviews  con  amore  a specimen 
picture  of  his  own  early  Past,  at  the  end  of  almost  half  a 
century  of  years  : — 

“Nothing  can  efface  my  recollections  of  winter  scenes 
familiar  to  me  whilst  I was  in  the  home  of  my  young 
days.  I will  endeavour  to  supply  from  memory  the 
incidents  of  a December  morning  fifty  years  ago.  Soon 
after  6 a.m.  a servant  awoke  my  brother  and  myself  with 
the  startling  announcement — ‘fifteen  degrees  below 
freezing,  sir  ! ’ A moment’s  glance  at  the  frosted  window- 
panes,  sparkling  like  diamonds  in  the  slanting  rays  of 
the  northern  moon,  and  we  were  dressing  (as  may  well 
be  supposed)  with  little  care  to  linger  over  the  last 

® Address  at  the  annual  meeting  of  the  Club, — April,  1878  (pp.  12), — 
pp.  6 to  8. 


358  Charles  Longuet  Higgins:  [1824 

touches  of  our  toilet.  Then  came  the  first  steps  in  the 
open  air,  as  the  door  closed  after  us — softly,  for  fear  of 
disturbing  the  sleepers,  who  in  due  time  were  to  welcome 
us  and  praise  our  sport  on  our  return.  . . . What  a morn- 
ing ! Brightly  dark  it  was  with  the  stars  shining  all  in 
strange  places  ; the  stars  of  spring  in  the  December  sky, 
and  the  air  solid  through  excess  of  cold.  Good  old  Pilot 
(our  retriever)  meets  us,  but  not  with  the  boundings  and 
barkings  proper  for  starting  on  a rabbit  foray.  De- 
murely and  half  asleep  he  follows,  with  nose  close  behind 
our  knees,  for  there  is  serious  work  to  be  done,  testing 
his  skill  and  honour ; and  he  has  to  earn  his  basin  of 
hot  bread-and-milk,— grateful  and  comforting  to  a dog 
who  has  done  his  duty  on  such  a morning. 

“ It  is  Charles’  turn  to  take  the  longer  route,  two  miles 
round  by  the  bridge  ; so  I commence  my  way  leisurely 
by  the  nearer  road  across  the  fields.  Ciisp  needle- 
pointed  ice  crystals  are  growing  in  the  thin  and  almost 
invisible  sheet  of  grey  mist  that  covers  the  turnip-tops  ; 
but  it  is  not  light  enough  to  see  their  beauty.  The 
sheep  with  hoary  fleeces  are  still  lying  huddled  together 
in  their  fold  of  hurdles,  and  a few  larks  spring  up  at  my 
feet,  unseen.  I reach  the  meadow,  but  find  myself  too 
soon  by  twenty  minutes.  Charles  will  not  have  had 
time  to  reach  his  post  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  river, 
so  I rest  near  a low  hedge.  It  is  closely  thatched  by  a 
bank  of  water-flags  and  rushes  brought  down  by  the 
November  flood,  and  is  bordered  on  the  nearer  side  by  a 
ditch  in  which  the  sedges  stand  crested  and  collared  with 
broad  frills  of  thin  white  ice,  from  which  the  water  has 
drained  away.  My  thoughts  are  intent  on  sport,  but  are 
nevertheless  unconsciously  drawn  to  the  beauty  of  the 
scene.  The  stars  are  fading  in  the  early  dawn,  and  how 
silent  and  pure  is  the  face  of  Nature ! Hark,  surely  it  is 
the  distant  cry  of  the  Curlew,  and  that  is  a sound  seldom 
heard  in  our  south-midland  counties. 

“ But  now,  watch  in  hand,  I perceive  that  the  anxiously 
awaited  moment  of  approach  to  the  river  is  drawing 
nigh.  Charles  will  now  be  crossing  the  meadow  on  the 
further  side,  and  we  are  to  be  on  the  opposite  banks  of 


The  Good  Layman. 


359 


1825] 

the  river  exactly  at  the  same  instant.  Stealthily,  with 
a creeping  motion  and  a beating  heart,  the  advance  com- 
mences. A couple  of  snipes  flirt  up  close  to  my  feet,  and 
fly  scaping  away.  Let  them  go  ! a shot  now  would  spoil 
all.  Time  is  up  : now  for  a quick  step,  or  I shall  be  too 
late.  The  river  here  is  very  broad,  including  several 
small  reed-covered  islands  studded  with  willow-trees 
and  intersected  by  shallow  winding  streams,  loved  by 
the  mallard  and  his  mate.  I am  on  the  worse  side,  but 
get  as  near  as  I can.  A stone  is  thrown  from  the  oppo- 
site bank,  and  the  splash  of  its  fall  between  the  islands 
is  soon  followed  by  the  double  report  of  Charles’  gun. 
‘ O ye  ice  and  snow ! ’ what  a flapping  and  a quacking — 
the  air  is  full  of  birds.  A great  blue  heron  jumps  up, 
neck  and  crop,  into  the  air  within  ten  yards,  and  almost 
falls  again  before  the  heavy  strokes  of  its  wings  can  bear 
the  frightened  awkward  creature  fairly  on  its  way. 

“ Whish  ! — before  my  very  face  a compact  wedge  of 
widgeon  rush  past,  up  the  river.  Ah,  if  my  shot  had 
been  saved,  two  or  three  at  least  might  have  been  bagged, 
— and  they  are  rarely  seen  so  far  away  from  the  fens. 
Smile  not,  kind  reader ! My  gun  in  those  days  was  not 
a double  breech-loader  but  a single-barreled  percussion 
gun,  which  in  fact  had  had  a narrow  escape  from  being 
a flint.  Well,  I had  got  a good  heavy  mallard ; and 
Charles,  I would  be  bound,  had  got  two  birds  of  some 
kind.  A shout  comes  from  the  other  side, — ‘ Pretty  good 
that ! Have  you  got  yo%iTS  ? ’ ‘ Yes,  haveyez^  % ’ ‘ All  right, 
— the  widgeon  are  down  again.  Hurrah  ! ’ ” 

To  the  Eectory  of  Turvey  had  come  in  October  1805, 
the  Rev.  Legh  Richmond, — an  excellent  specimen  of 
the  school  to  which  the  Church  of  England  was  to  a 
great  extent  indebted,  under  God,  for  whatever  she 
exhibited  outwardly  of  vital  religion  and  practical  piety 
during  the  last  half  of  the  former,  and  the  first  quarter  of 
the  present  century.  Whether  it  be  not  equally  true 
that  to  the  one-sided  teaching,  slender  churchmanship, 
and  irregular  method  of  the  leaders  of  that  school,  the 


360  Charles  Longuet  Higgins:  [1824 

Church  is  further  indebted  for  not  a few  of  those 
divisions  which  at  this  day  are  the  abiding  sorrow  of  our 
country  parishes, — it  would  be  foreign  to  my  present 
purpose  to  inquire.  Such  an  one  as  Legh  Richmond 
could  not  fail  to  exert  a powerful  influence  over  the 
inmates  of  Turvey  Abbey.  Besides  being  a sincerely 
pious  man,  he  was  a very  entertaining  person ; was  (what 
is  called)  ‘ exceedingly  good  company  ’ : above  all,  had 
three  sons  of  his  own  to  educate.  It  was  at  last  arranged 
that  he  should  obtain  the  services  of  a Curate  competent 
to  guide  the  studies  of  the  boys  of  both  families.  Certain 
of  these  Curates, — (for  there  was  a succession  of  them,) — 
proved  but  sorry  scholars ; while  certain  others,  not 
unnaturally,  experienced  more  satisfaction  in  trying  to 
win  the  affections  of  one  or  other  of  the  Rector’s 
charming  daughters  than  in  trying  to  kindle  enthusiasm 
in  the  hearts  of  their  brothers  for  Virgil  and  Homer.  In 
brief,  the  educational  experiment  succeeded  very  badly. 
The  inaptitude  of  Mr.  Richmond’s  Curates  to  teach  their 
pupils  Latin  and  Greek  was  only  unimportant  because 
they  seem  to  have  had  so  little  of  either  language  to 
impart.  Certainly,  to  no  help  or  guidance  which  he 
obtained  from  the  preceptors  of  his  boyhood,  was  Charles 
Longuet  indebted  for  the  extraordinary  proficiency  he 
subsequently  attained  in  that  varied  knowledge  which 
no  English  gentleman  of  the  best  type  may  be  without ; 
but  which  he,  by  the  mere  proclivity  of  his  nature, 
cultivated  through  life  with  zeal,  and  eventually  possessed 
in  rare  perfection.  His  studious,  thoughtful  habits  were 
all  his  own.  The  end  of  the  matter  was  that  with  as 
slender  a classical  outfit  as  was  practicable,  Charles 
went  up  to  Cambridge,  and  under  the  Rev.  Legh  Rich- 
mond’s guidance  was  entered  at  Trinity  College,  on  the 
24th  of  May,  1824.  Inasmuch  however  as  the  date  of 


1826] 


The  Good  Layman. 


361 

his  matriculation  as  a Pensioner  of  Trinity  is  found  to  be 
Nov.  14th  in  the  ensuing  year,^  it  is  probable  that  he 
did  not  commence  actual  residence  at  Cambridge  until  the 
beginning  of  1 8:26,  being  then  rather  more  than  19  years  of 
age.  The  College  ‘ Admission  book  ’ states  that  his  Turvey 
preceptor  had  been  the  Eev.  T.  Ayre  ; and  that  the  tutor 
to  whom  he  was  now  assigned  was  ‘ Mr.  Whewell.’ 

I have  said  little  about  my  friend’s  youthful  life,  and 
shall  dismiss  the  subject  with  the  brief  statement  that 
the  future  bent  of  his  disposition  became  conspicuous 
from  his  earliest  manhood.  Quite  impossible  was  it  that 
one  of  so  earnest  a nature  should  ever  acquiesce  con- 
tentedly in  the  ordinary  sports  and  occupations  of  a 
country  Squire.  And  yet,  he  was  one  of  the  best  shots  in 
the  county,  as  well  as  one  of  the  most  skilful  of  anglers  ; 
an  accomplished  rider  too,  though  he  never  cared  to  hunt. 
In  whatever  he  did,  he  was  thorough.  He  was  always 
successful  in  killing, — was  supremely  careful  not  to 
wound, — his  bird.  Every  hole  and  every  shallow  of  the 
river — (the  rights  of  which  were  exclusively  his  own) — 
he  had  known  by  heart  from  boyhood : while  his  great 
personal  strength,  (for  when  I first  knew  him  he  was  like 
a young  Hercules),  added  to  his  quick  eye  and  nice 
manipulation  of  whatever  he  undertook  to  handle,  were 
of  paramount  service  to  him  as  a sportsman.  At  archery 
meetings  his  score  was  ever  the  highest,  and  his  arrows 
had  a more  point-blank  trajectory  than  those  of  his 
competitors.^  Few  could  bend  his  bow.  His  younger 

^ From  the  Bev.  E.  Appleton,  with  his  mother  in  her  donkey- 

Senior  Dean  of  Trinity,  and  the  chair,  he  was  told  to  go  and  shoot  a 

Begistrar  of  the  University, — Bev.  little  bird  for  her.  His  bow  was  an 

H.  B.  Luard.  ash  sapling,  and  his  arrow  a reed 

^ From  his  brother, — who  adds  : with  an  elder  cap.  He  went  and 

— ‘ When  a child,  out  in  the  fields  returned  with  a bird  he  had  shot 


362  Charles  Longuet  Higgins:  [1826 

brother’s  vivid  portraiture  of  the  sport  in  which  they 
were  both  engaged  one  early  winter  morning  is,  to  say 
the  least,  suggestive.  But  his  fondness  for  such  pursuits 
subordinated  to  his  love  of  Nature’s  self.  Natural 
objects  were  his  delight,  and  natural  history  was  not  with 
him  so  much  a taste  as  a passion.  He  collected  insects, — 
studied  the  ways  of  birds,  beasts,  fishes, — preserved 
shells  and  fossils:  there  was  in  truth  no  branch  of 
Natural  Science  which  he  did  not  at  first  pursue  with 
excessive  ardour,  and  in  which  he  did  not  eventually 
become  a great  proficient.  But  then,  over  and  above  all 
this,  it  is  truest  of  all  to  declare  that  he  was,  as  a young 
man,  enamoured  of  goodness  in  all  its  forms:  loved 
holiness  : aimed  at  being  a blessing  to  others  : was  set  on 
making  practical  piety  the  very  business  of  his  life. 
Legh  Richmond’s  teaching  doubtless  proved  helpful  to 
him : but  that  were  a superficial  view  indeed  which 
could  mistake  a salutary  influence  for  a creative  cause. 
The  Rector  of  Turvey  died  in  the  May  of  1827. 

Charles  Longuet  once  told  me  casually  in  conver- 
sation,— (it  was  in  the  spring  of  1884,  and,  for  a wonder, 
I made  a memorandum  of  the  circumstance  at  the  time), 
— that,  on  going  up  to  Cambridge  in  the  beginning  of 
1826,  he  secretly  set  before  himself  three  great  objects  for 
his  after-life.  The  first  was, — To  re-edify  and  enlarge 
the  parish  church  at  Turvey : — the  second, — To  rebuild 
the  cottages  on  his  paternal  estate,  as  well  as  to  erect  new 
Schools  : — the  third, — To  found  a Library  for  the  use  of 
the  Clergy  of  the  Archdeaconry  (which  is  co-extensive 
with  the  county)  of  Bedford.  Such  an  evidence  of 
matured  character  and  deliberate  moral  purpose  in  a 
youth  of  twenty  had  better  be  left  uncommented  on  and 

flying.  He  was  told  to  go  and  he  did,  and  brought  it  to  his 
shoot  another,  which  accordingly  mother. 


1826] 


The  Good  Layman. 


unadorned.  The  subject  will  perforce  have  to  be  reverted 
to  immediately : but  it  may  be  as  well  to  state  at  once 
that  the  high  square  pews, — (lined  with  red  or  green 
baize  and  overstocked  with  cushions,) — the  oppressive 
galleries,  portentous  pulpit,  and  sordid  appointments 
which  prevailed  in  our  country  churches  within  the 
memory  of  elderly  persons, — were  to  be  witnessed  at 
Turvey  in  great  perfection.  In  this,  as  in  most  of  the 
surrounding  villages,  the  public  way  was  also  skirted  by 
tenements, — low,  thatched,  comfortless,  and  often  dilapi- 
dated,— which  were  rather  hovels  than  cottage  residences  ; 
many  of  them  carrying  on  their  front  evidence  of  their 
probable  history, — namely,  that  they  were  the  archi- 
tectural efforts  of  their  first  occupants.  Here  too  the 
School  which  his  great-uncle  had  founded  in  1792  was 
carried  on  in  the  humblest  of  buildings.  What  need  to 
add  that  the  tone  of  the  neighbouring  Clergy  con- 
spicuously admitted  of  improvement,  and  that  by  no 
possibility  could  Festus  himself  have  charged  any  of 
their  number  with  mental  aberration  through  ‘ much 
learning’?  . . . The  characteristic  feature  of  the  resolve 
which  my  brother  carried  up  with  him  to  Cambridge,  and 
there  matured,  was,  that  it  was  conceived  and  cherished 
by  him  at  such  an  early  date.  He  was  among  the  fore- 
most in  a field  where  not  a few  have  since  signalized 
themselves ; but  by  no  means  for  the  most  part  with 
corresponding  success. 

I will  here  remind  those  of  the  present  generation, — 
(to  whom  such  things  must  sound  purely  fabulous),— 
that  the  improvement  in  whatever  belongs  to  the 
Services  of  the  Sanctuary,  including  the  manners,  tone, 
and  bearing  of  the  Clergy  themselves,  since  the  first 
quarter  of  this  nineteenth  century  of  ours, — is  altogether 


364  Charles  Longuet  Higgins:  [1826 

extraordinary.  The  Hymn  was  given  out  by  the  parish- 
Clerk,  who  first  recited  two  lines  at  a time, — in  order  to 
let  the  congregation  know  what  they  were  required  to 
sing.  Charles  remembered  a worthy  man,  the  Curate  of 
a neighbouring  village, — (I  will  not  indicate  him  more 
exactly), — who,  on  coming  over  to  Turvey  on  Sundays, 
used,  between  morning  and  afternoon  Service,  to  halt  at 
^TJie  Three  Fishes,'  (an  old  inn  near  the  bridge):  to  take 
his  repose  in  the  porch:  and  there,  in  his  shirt  sleeves, 
and  in  view  of  all  passers-by,  to  refresh  himself  with 
bread-and-cheese  and  a tankard  of  ale, — having  first 
suspended  his  wig  on  the  top  of  his  walking  cudgel,  and 
deposited  the  latter  against  the  wall.  . . . The  same  indi- 
vidual,— (really  a worthy  and  respectable  person,) — was 
overtaken  by  the  Bishop  of  the  diocese  walking  from 
Turvey  to  Bedford  one  hot  day  without  his  coat  (which 
he  carried  on  his  arm),  and  singing  lustily  ‘ My  friend 
and  pitcher.’  The  Bishop  from  the  carriage  window, — 
“I  congratulate  you,  my  friend,  on  being  in  such  good  voice T' 
At  Cambridge,  Charles  found  himself  introduced  at 
once  to  a society  of  excellent  young  men,  of  whom  Mr. 
Simeon  was  the  guiding  spirit.  My  brother  zealously 
attended  both  his  public  and  his  private  teaching,  but 
was  specially  benefited  by  the  latter.  The  practice  used 
to  be  to  repair  to  his  rooms  at  King’s  College  on  a Friday 
evening, — “my  open  day,”  (as  Simeon  used  to  call  it), 
“when  I receive  visitors  at  tea,  frequently  more  than 
forty, — all  without  invitation.”  His  way  was  to  sit  on 
a high  chair, — the  gownsmen  on  forms  in  front  of  him. 
The  men  were  encouraged  to  propose  difficult  texts  of 
Scripture, — to  ask  hard  questions, — to  ventilate  their 
individual  doubts  and  perplexities.^  Punctuality'  in 
arriving  was  rigidly  exacted,  and  the  instruction  lasted 
® ^ Life  of  Simeon,^  by  the  Eev.  Canon  Cams,  1848, — pp.  423  and  452-8. 


1826] 


The  Good  Layman. 


365 


for  exactly  an  hour.  The  Kev.  Charles  Simeon’s  sermons 
(at  Trinity  Church)  were  largely  attended  by  the  more 
thoughtful  and  devout  members  of  the  undergraduate 
body.  Those  discourses  are  described  as  very  earnest  and 
very  impressive.  The  preacher’s  manner  must  have  been 
peculiar.  With  outstretched  arm,  connecting  the  ex-- 
tremity  of  his  forefinger  with  the  summit  of  his  thumb, 
he  always  seemed  engaged  in  trying  to  catch  a fiy.^  And 
perhaps,  in  a certain  sense,  so  he  really  was.  One  of  the 
friends  of  those  happy  undergraduate  days  (T.  W.  Meller) 
wrote  to  Charles  Longuet  long  after, — 

“ Does  the  squire,  now  owner  of  the  Abbey  pew,  still 
go  up  to  worship  God  in  His  house  of  prayer  with  the 
same  earnest  loving  spirit  with  which  he  used,  30  years 
back,  to  hurry  through  Rose  Crescent  to  get  to  Simeon’s 
in  time?  You  remember  those  sermons  at  Trinity 
Church  ? and  sometimes  the  friendly  cup  of  coffee  after- 
wards ? and  then  our  talking  over  the  sermon  ? ” ^ 


There  is  no  greater  charm  in  a man’s  undergraduate 
life,  than  the  College  friendships  which  he  then  forms, 
and  by  consequence  the  many  precious  recollections  of 
bright  and  joyous  days  which  he  carries  away  with  him, 
— carries  away  and  cherishes  in  his  inmost  heart  to  the 
latest  hour  of  his  existence.  True,  that  as  the  years 
roll  out,  “ the  changes  and  chances  of  this  mortal  life,” — 
new  interests, — diversity  of  pursuits, — added  to  distance, 
— are  apt  to  effect  a severance:  but  even  these  are 
powerless  to  quench  the  memory  of  the  unchangeable. 


* “ His  style  of  delivery,  whicli  to 
the  last  was  remarkably  lively  and 
impressive,  in  his  earlier  days  was 
earnest  and  impassioned  in  no  ordi- 
nary degree.  The  intense  fervour 
of  his  feelings  he  cared  not  to  con- 
ceal or  restrain ; his  whole  soul  was 
in  his  subject,  and  he  spoke  and 


acted  exactly  as  he  felt.  Occasion- 
ally indeed  his  gestures  and  looks 
were  almost  grotesque,  from  the 
earnestness  and  fearlessness  of  his 
attempts  to  illustrate  or  enforce  his 
thoughts.” — ^ Life,'  p.  52. 

® Woodbridge  Rectory,  Suffolk, 
— Nov.  6th,  i860. 


366  Charles  Longuet  Higgins:  [1826 

blissful  Past.  Friendships,  if  they  have  been  founded 
on  some  better  foundation  than  pleasures  and  studies 
pursued  for  three  years  in  common,  though  they  may 
seem  to  die  out,  in  reality  smoulder  on,  and  are  ready  at 
any  time  to  break  out  into  a cheerful  blaze.  At  Cam- 
bridge, as  ah’eady  stated,  Charles  found  himself  drawn 
into  a set  of  earnest  young  men,  who  (like  himself)  were 
supremely  bent  on  holy  living  and  on  doing  good. 
Perhaps  it  would  be  truer  to  say  that  he  and  they  found 
themselves  drawn  to  one  another  by  the  attraction  of  a 
common  holy  aim,  and  the  sympathetic  consciousness  of 
a kindred  lofty  purpose.  With  many  of  these  he  formed 
a close,  and  what  proved  a lifelong,  friendship.  Their 
names  and  virtues, — certain  of  their  actions  too, — he 
delighted  in  his  declining  years  to  recall,  as  well  as  to 
relate  in  how  many  instances  they  had  fulfilled  their 
early  promise, — chiefly  as  devoted  missionaries  and  holy 
livers.  The  names  which  chiefly  present  themselves  to 
me  at  this  time  as  having  been  oftenest  on  his  lips,  are 
the  following  eighteen: — “Joe”  Medlicott, — Joseph  W. 
Harden, — John  Noble, — James  Colley, — T.  W.  Meller  and 
Henry  S.  Kichmond. — The  other  names  shall  be  set  down 
in  alphabetical  order  : — Frederick  Barker, — Abner  W. 
and  James  Mellor  Brown, — A.  T.  Carr, — John  Clay, — Fre- 
derick Hose, — J.  B.  Jebb, — William  James  J.  Leach, — 
W.  Leeke, — David  Mead, — . . . Medd, — . . . Prendergast. 
The  first  four,  or  rather  the  first  six  of  these  were  his 
chiefest  intimates,  but  he  dearly  loved  them  all.  Most 
of  them  became  exemplary  and  devoted  clergymen : some 
went  out  as  Missionaries.  Barker  (who  married  Harden’s 
sister)  became  Bishop  of  Sydney.  ® A few  died  young. 


® The  Bishop  wrote  to  C.  L.  H.  weeks  ago.”  He  has  the  whole  of 

(March,  1839), — “ We  went  to  pay  the  parish  (except  the  Squire)  under 

a visit  to  Joseph  Harden  some  instruction  in  Bible  classes.  Old 


The  Good  Layman. 


367 


1828] 

A packet  of  letters  which  has  been  placed  in  my 
hands  shows  me  that  these  undergraduate  friendships 
were  in  the  main  kept  up  by  all  the  party  to  the  end 
of  their  days.  Thus,  in  1851,  A.  T.  Carr  writes, — 
“ I occasional!}^  see  or  hear  from  Leeke,  Clay,  Harden, 
the  Browns,  &c. — who  are  all  walking  in  the  good  old 
paths,  and  seeking  to  lead  others.”  ^ “ I can  still  say  ” 
(wrote  J.  W.  Harden  in  1857)  “that  the  same  doctrines 
and  views  that  we  used  to  hear  from  dear  old  Simeon 
are  as  precious  to  me  as  ever.  ...  You  will  be  glad  to 
hear  that  our  old  friends  Clay  and  Colley  are  quite 
well.”  ^ Harden  and  Colley  were  neighbours  : Medlicott 
corresponded  with  all : — 

“ I have  had  a good  deal  of  correspondence  with  dear 
Harden  and  Clay  about  Curates”  (he  wrote  in  1849), 
“ but  one  becomes  very  local  when  settled,  though  still 
loving  all  those  with  whom  in  bygone  days  we  took 
sweet  counsel  together.  O how  happy  were  they ! ” ^ 
And  at  the  end  of  eight  years, — “I  often  think  of  our 
happy  Cambridge  days  and  friends.”  ^ 

In  1857,  James  Colley  wrote  from  Shrewsbury: — 

“Your  once  familiar  handwriting  I instantly  recog- 
nised, and  it  revived,  I assure  you,  many  a pleasant 
recollection  of  bygone  days,  when  we  were  so  happily 
united  in  sentiment  and  in  friendly  intercourse  in  our 
youthful  prime.  Alas,  alas,  thirty  years  have  flown 
rapidly  away  since  first  we  met, — years,  I am  bound  to 
say,  as  you  also  do,  of  many  many  mercies.  I can 
scarcely  believe  that  so  much  of  my  life  has  gone : 
and  it  is  only  by  looking  back,  or  by  seeing  some  of 
my  contemporaries  fathers  of  sons  who  are  now,  what 

men  and  women  come  to  his  school  ® Condover  Vicarage,  near  Shrew s~ 
and  are  taught  with  the  greatest  hury, — ^Dec.  2nd,  1857. 
docility.”  ® Fotterne,  Devizes,  Apr.  6, 1849. 

S.  John's,  Beverley, — Dec.  i,  ^ Fotterne,  Dec.  8,  1857. 

1851. 


368  Charles  Longuet  Higgins:  [1828 

we  were,  men  at  Cambridge,  that  I can  believe  I am 
so  old.”^ 

When  twenty-four  years  more  had  passed,  the  same 
affectionate  heart  expressed  itself  in  nearly  the  same 
words : — 

“The  sight  of  your  once  familiar  writing  revived  at 
once  the  recollection  of  bygone  days,  and  ‘ opened  many 
a cell  where  memory  slept,’ — recalling  seasons  of  enjoy- 
ment and  improvement  in  your  society  at  Cambridge  . . . 
Well  do  I remember  evenings  of  spiritual  communion 
spent  together  at  Trinity  and  S.  John’s.”  ^ 

“You  must  not  think,”  (says  John  Noble  in  1859), 
“ because  I do  not  write  often  that  I cannot  still  say 
with  Virgil  (though  I really  cannot  correctly  quote  the 
Latin  without  reference,  and  have  no  time  for  that), 

‘ When  the  fishes  are  deserted  and  left  by  the  sea  on  the 
dry  land,  &c.,  then  shall  your  image  be  effaced  from  my 
breast.’  There  it  is  fixed  for  life,  and  all  the  scenes  of 
our  happy  College  days,  and  bright  and  joyous  hours 
with  your  family.”  ^ 

His  friend  T.  W.  Meller  writes  to  remind  him  (in 
1862)  “of  bygone  times, — our  frequent  walks  together 
in  Trinity  Cloisters, — our  Sunday  evening  Bible  read- 
ings, &c.”  ^ And  a more  conspicuous  name  than  any 
of  the  preceding,  the  present  excellent  Bishop  of 
Winchester  (Dr.  Harold  Browne),  in  a more  recent 
letter  says, — 

“It  is  indeed  nearly  50  years  since  I first  had  the 
blessing  and  privilege  of  being  introduced  to  you,  and 
being  honoured  by  your  friendship.  ‘October  1828’ — 
were  the  month  and  year.”  ® 

^ Oct,  26,  1857.  ® Woodhridge  Rectory,  Suffolk, 

Belmont,  Shrewsbury, — Nov.  3,  June  30th,  1862. 

1881.  *38  Bryanston  Square,  — June 

* Nether  Broughton,  Melton  15,  1877. 

Mowbray, — Nov.  i6th,  1859. 


The  Good  Layman. 


369 


1826J 

I much  regret  that  I have  not  more  to  record  con- 
cerning this  dear  friend  and  brother’s  Cambridge  under- 
graduate life.  The  modest  reserve  with  which  sincerely 
good  men  speak  of  themselves  was  the  cause  that  only 
casually  did  he  let  fall  such  hints  as  the  following: — 
That  he  and  his  friends  prescribed  to  themselves  a strict 
rule  of  holy  living  and  simplicity  in  diet.  They  were  all 
great  students  of  the  Bible,  and  were  not  ashamed  of 
being  known  to  be  men  of  prayer.  (What  this  means 
can  only  be  understood  by  those  who  are  aware  how 
largely  our  Universities  had  become  infected  by  the 
irreligion  of  a bygone  age.)  In  defiance  of  the  spirit  of 
their  generation,  they  drank  no  wine,  but  invited  one 
another  to  tea.  At  College,  my  brother  would  never 
allow  wine  to  be  so  much  as  seen  in  his  rooms.  He 
abhorred  everything  approaching  to  self-indulgence.  So 
frugal  and  self-denying  was  he  that  already,  out  of  the 
modest  allowance  which  his  Father  made  him,  he  began 
to  purchase  books  with  a view  to  founding  that  Library 
for  the  Diocesan  Clergy  of  which  mention  has  been  made 
above.  The  first  volume  he  procured  with  this  object 
was  Luther’s  ‘ Coynmentary  on  the  Lpisile  to  the  Galatians! 

One  feature  in  Charles’s  college  life  specially  de- 
serving of  record  is  the  prominent  part  he  took  in 
founding  (what  is  known  at  Cambridge  as)  ‘ the  Jesus 
Lane  Sunday  Sehool!  At  the  end  of  30  years  (viz.  in 
1857)  an  attempt  was  made  to  ascertain  the  exact 
circumstances  under  which  that  school  had  originated ; 
and  (as  invariably  happens  in  such  matters)  men’s 
memories  proved  at  fault  and  indistinct.^  The  essential 

The  result  appears  in  ’■A  His-  with  additions  by  the  Rev.  E.  A pple- 
tory  of  Jesus  Lane  Sunday  School,  ton,  and  by  the  Rev.  E.  T.  Leeke, — 
Camlridge,  a.  d.  1827-1877,’ — By  [1877,  pp.  213].  There  was  an 
the  Rev.  C.  A.  Jones, — Revised  earlier  edition  in  1864. 

VOL.  II.  B b 


370  Charles  Longuet  Higgins:  [1826 

facts  however  emerged  clearly  enough  ; namely, — That, 
at  the  period  referred  to,  the  design  was  cherished  in 
more  than  one  undergraduate  quarter,  of  folding  into 
a Sunday  School  the  children  of  what  was  at  that  time 
the  most  neglected  and  degraded  parish  in  Cambridge, 
viz.  Barnwell : — that  the  method  adopted  by  the  under- 
graduate originators  of  this  movement  was  to  go  about 
the  parish  in  pairs,  and  invite  Parents  to  send  their 
children ; — that  foremost  in  the  good  work  were  Har- 
den, Carr,  Leeke,  and  the  two  Browns  ; — and  that  their 
endeavours  were  crowned  with  extraordinary  success. 
What  had  been  a Quakers'*  meeting-house  in  Jesus 
Lane  was  obtained  for  the  purposes  of  a school, — was 
opened,  filled,  and  furnished  with  undergraduate 
teachers,  immediately.  The  date  assigned  to  this 
enterprise  is  1827.  letters  which  follow  show 

that  1826, — (in  the  January  of  which  year  Charles 
Longuet  went  up  to  Trinity), — was  rather  the  year 
from  which  the  endeavour  dates ; and  further  that 
his  name  is  to  be  added  to  the  five  already  enumerated 
as  one  of  its  very  earliest  promoters.  The  following  letter, 
dated  Dec.  26th,  1857,  was  his  reply  to  certain  inquiries 
on  the  subject  addressed  to  himself  by  the  Kev.  C.  A. 
Jones,  Secretary  to  the  ‘Jesus  Lane  Sunday  School’ : — 

“ It  was  my  great  privilege  whilst  at  Trinity  College, 
now  thirty  years  ago,  to  have  been  permitted,  with  some 
dear  and  valued  friends,  to  assist  in  forming  the  Jesus 
Lane  School.  I do  not  think  that  any  record  was  kept 
of  the  matter. 

“ We  had  great  difiiculty  in  obtaining  a room  fit  for 
our  purpose,  and  the  only  place  which  we  could  get 
was  the  Quakers’  meeting-house.  We  took  counsel  with 
dear  old  Mr.  Simeon,  and  it  resulted  in  our  establishing 
ourselves  there.  The  school  was  well  attended  almost 
from  the  first. 


The  Good  Layman. 


371 


1826] 

“ My  friend  J.  W.  Harden,  Vicar  of  Condover  near 
Shrewsbury,  was  one  of  the  most  zealous  promoters  of 
the  plan ; and  the  meetings  which  took  place  about 
it  were  often  held  in  his  rooms  at  S.  John’s  College.  . . 

I thank  God  that  this  School  still  prospers,  and  I pray 
that  a blessing  may  rest  on  the  Children,  and  on  the 
teachers  who  attend  it. 

“ Some  of  the  earliest  friends  of  the  School  after- 
wards went  out  as  Missionaries.  Others  were  scattered 
abroad  over  the  land,  as  Clergy  in  rural  parishes,  and 
some  were  placed  in  populous  districts ; and  it  is  a 
great  blessing  to  be  able  to  hope  that  the  larger  portion 
of  them  have  been  earnest-minded,  prayerful,  faithful, 
zealous  men,  whom  the  mercy  of  God  has  enabled  to  be 
very  useful  in  their  day.  Many  are  gone  to  their  rest. 
It  rejoices  my  heart  to  hear  that  the  work  goes  on.” 

In  answer  to  renewed  inquiries  from  the  same 
quarter,  on  the  17  th  October,  1861,  Charles  wrote  as 
follows  : — 

“I  believe  that  the  first  meetings  in  1826  were  held 
on  Sunday  evenings.  These  were  regularly  attended, 
and  afterwards  the  Thursday  evening  meetings  were 
added. 

“ I think  that  the  trustees  of  the  Quakers’  meeting- 
house lived  both  at  Haddenham  and  Ely. 

“ I know  that  Harden  canvassed  for  scholars  during 
the  week. 

“ I think  that  the  School  was  commenced  with  about 
200  children. 

“ David  Mead  and  Claudius  Sandys  are  dead. 

“ I rejoice  exceedingly  to  hear  that  the  School  still 
lives  and  prospers.  Pray  give  my  love  to  all  the  dear 
children,  and  tell  them  that  an  old  teacher  prays  that 
God  may  bless  them.” 

What  immediately  precedes  was  written  the  day  after 
Charles  had  received  from  his  friend  Harden  the  letter 
which  immediately  follows  : — 

B b 2 


372  Charles  Longuet  Higgins:  [1827 

“ Condover  Vicarage,  near  Shrewsbury, 
15th  Oct.,  i86i. 

“ My  dear  old  Friend, — It  is  a long  time  since  I heard 
from  you,  and  I must  say  it  always  warms  my  heart  to 
receive  one  of  your  nice  letters.  I have  just  had  a letter 
from  a Mr.  Jones  in  Cambridge,  wishing  me  to  supply 
all  the  information  I can  about  the  establishment  of  the 
‘ Jesus  Lane  Sunday  School.’ 

“ Now,  I know  that  you  were  very  hearty  in  the 
cause ; and  I believe  that  it  was  you  who  were  my 
companion  when  we  first  went  through  Barnwell  to 
get  the  names  of  Children, — on  which  occasion  between 
200  and  300  promised  to  attend.  Am  I not  correct  in 
my  supposition  % I fancy  I now  hear  your  ‘ Glorious  I ’ 
at  every  fresh  instance  of  success  ; and  if  you  were  not 
my  companion  on  the  occasion,  I cannot  possibly  con- 
ceive who  it  was.  Will  you  be  kind  enough  to  inform 
me  as  soon  as  convenient?  It  will  be  a great  favour. 
Mr.  Alfred  Jones  speaks  of  the  School  having  been 
established  in  1827,  but  I cannot  at  all  remember  as  to 
this  point.” 

It  is  to  be  wished  that  Charles’  reply  to  the  foregoing 
inquiry  could  be  recovered : but  it  would  not  at  all 
surprise  me  to  find  that  he  professed  himself  as  much  at 
fault,  at  the  end  of  five-and-thirty  years,  as  his  friend 
Harden  when  he  tried  to  recall  with  absolute  certainty, 
(so  irrelevant  and  unimportant  is  the  circumstance), 
who  was  the  companion  of  his  walk  on  one  particular 
occasion.  Certain  it  is  that  Charles  told  his  wife  that 
he  was  one  of  those  who  visited  Barnwell  in  missionary 
pairs  in  1826.  But  the  walks  and  the  friends  were 
many,  and  the  choice  of  a companion  must  have  been 
sometimes  determined  by  accident,  and  at  the  last 
moment. 

On  returning  finally  to  his  father’s  roof  in  1829, 
C.  I.  H.  resumed  with  redoubled  energy  and  intelligence 


The  Good  Layman. 


373 


1829] 

that  career  of  local  usefulness  which  his  residence  at  the 
University  had  interrupted.  How  precious  to  him  in 
the  meantime  the  whole  interval  had  been,  was  not  only 
apparent  throughout  the  remainder  of  his  life,  but  it 
found  frequent  generous  and  hearty  expression.  “Next 
to  Turvey, — Trinity,  Cambridge,  is  to  me  the  dearest 
place  in  the  world  ” : — I have  heard  him  say  it  many  a 
time.  He  came  back  matured  in  mind  and  confirmed  in 
character.  Henceforth,  he  was  simply  unremitting  in 
his  solicitude  for  the  poor  of  the  parish.  He  organized, 
and  took  under  his  own  personal  charge,  their  Benefit 
Clubs, — taught  in  the  village-School  three  times  on 
every  Sunday,  opening  it  always  in  person, — visited 
from  house  to  house.  He  remedied  the  complaint  that 
sponsors  are  not  to  be  found  for  infants,  by  becoming 
sponsor  himself  to  upwards  of  300.  And  the  bond  thus 
established  he  made  a real  one,  by  caring  specially  for 
the  spiritual  life  of  those  little  ones,  as  well  as  promoting 
their  temporal  welfare.  At  the  same  time,  he  was 
steadily  increasing  his  library, — forming  a collection  of 
objects  of  Natural  History, — and  devoting  himself  to 
the  study  of  Physical  Science  in  all  its  branches. 

Himself  an  accomplished  musician,  it  was  now  that 
Charles  made  his  earliest  essays  at  improving  the  min- 
strelsy of  Turvey  Church.  But  at  first,  very  little 
progress  was  possible.  The  traditional  clarionet,  fiute 
and  bass-viol, — all  three  in  the  hands  of  old  men  who 
exercised  a prescriptive  right  to  render  ‘ Brady  and 
Tate  ’ after  their  own  peculiar  fashion,  and  to  lead  the 
voices  of  the  congregation  according  to  their  own  queer 
will, — effectually  blocked  the  way.  What  at  last  broke 
the  spell  was  the  gift,  by  an  excellent  gentlewoman  ^ 

^ Miss  Ann  Maria  Higgins  [6.  respects  a considerable  benefactress 
1795,  d.  1838], — who  was  in  other  to  Turvey  parish. 


374  Charles  Lonouet  Higgins:  [1829 

residing  within  the  parish,  of  a small  organ.  This  was 
in  the  spring  of  1838.  Over  this  poor  instrument 
Charles  at  once  presided,  and  a new  era  at  once  com- 
menced. He  assured  me  however,  many  years  after, 
that  he  considered  it  so  important  that  the  musical 
sympathies  of  the  entire  congregation  should  be  enlisted 
in  the  Services  of  the  Sanctuary,  that  he  wished  he 
could  have  retained  viol,  flute,  and  clarionet,  in  some 
sort  of  concert  or  harmony  with  the  organ.  In  the 
meantime  the  beetling  gallery  and  local  traditions, — not 
to  say  the  prejudices  of  the  congregation, — were  strong 
hindrances  in  the  path  of  one  who  was  gradually  feeling 
after  something  better,  and  pioneering  ‘ a more  excellent 
way.’  It  was  not  till  1840,  that  he  ventured  to  compile 
a little  ‘Hymnal’  for  the  use  of  the  congregation. ^ (It 
will  be  remembered  that  such  helps  to  public  worship 
were  rare  fifty  years  ago.)  In  due  time,  he  secured 
responsive  Psalmody, — (though  the  choir  still  occupied 
the  gallery,) — by  stationing  half  their  body  in  the 
Chancel.  I remember  one  week-day  evening  visiting 
the  Church  to  witness  the  practice ; and  still  seem  to 
hear  the  rough  voices  of  certain  of  the  peasantry, 
perched  aloft,  grandly  ringing  out  the  words, — “ SjnriiMS 
uhi  viilt  spiral'^' — almost  as  if  Latin  were  their  native 
tongue.  The  choral  movement  however  was  still  in  its 

O 

infancy.  Like  every  other  of  the  world’s  benefactors, 
Charles  had  to  bide  his  time. 

Divinity  was  his  one  special  study  at  this  period  of 
his  life.  In  fact,  he  made  no  secret  that  it  was  the 
highest  aspiration  of  his  soul  to  consecrate  himself  to  his 
Master’s  service  by  entering  the  Ministry.  His  Father’s 

® ‘Psalms  and  Hymns  adapted  England,'  — (Bedford,  1840,  pp. 
to  the  Services  of  the  Church  of  200), 


1829]  The  Good  Layman.  375 

silence  he  interpreted  to  signify  acquiescence.  Charles 
accordingly  proceeded  to  negociate  about  a Curacy,  and 
was  prepared  to  accept  the  title  offered  him  by  the  Vicar 
of  Halifax.  At  this  stage  of  the  business  it  became 
necessary,  of  course,  to  take  his  Father  seriously  into 
his  counsels,  and  to  communicate  his  deliberate  resolve  to 
take  Holy  Orders.  The  proposal  met  with  absolute  pro- 
hibition,— and  Charles  submitted.  But  he  remained  m 
heart  a clergyman  to  the  end  of  his  days.  He  was  to  the 
last  a great  reader  of  Divinity,  and  made  himself  quite  a 
competent  Divine, — attended  Church  Congresses  with 
genuine  delight, — watched  the  fortunes  of  the  Church 
with  unflagging  interest  and  the  profoundest  sympathy. 
He  was  the  head  and  front  of  every  movement  for  good 
in  his  neighbourhood  ; became  the  recognised  friend, 
helper  and  adviser  of  all  the  surrounding  Clergy,  attend- 
ing their  clerical  meetings  and  caring  for  their  Schools. 
He  was  familiarly  styled  ‘ The  Lay  Bishop  of  the  Diocese,’ 
and  he  certainly  deserved  the  title.  Had  he  been  permitted 
to  follow  the  bent  of  his  inclinations  as  a youug  man,  and 
to  win  the  object  of  his  ‘ first  love,’  he  would  assuredly 
have  left  the  abiding  impress  of  his  earnest  character, 
pure  spirit,  and  lofty  aspirations  on  the  Church  of  his 
Baptism.  A most  original  and  impressive  Preacher  he 
must  certainly  have  proved.  The  reality  and  thorough- 
ness of  his  character  would  have  secured  to  him  a vast 
following.  There  would  have  been  no  sitting  unmoved 
under  Charles  Longuet  Higgins.  But  besides  this,  he 
possessed  great  governing,  guiding,  and  administrative 
power;  answered  his  letters  immediately,  and,  to  the  end 
of  his  life,  with  his  own  hand  ; — kept  his  most  trifling 
promises  ; — never  failed  in  his  appointments  ; — and  was, 
without  exception,  the  most  methodical,  most  punctual 
person  I ever  knew.  But  this  was  not  nearly  all.  It  was 


376  Charles  Lonquet  Higgins:  [1830 

his  nature  to  draw  to  himself,  and  to  conciliate,  every 
one  Avith  whom  he  came  in  contact.  He  combined  the 
greatest  dignity  and  courtesy  of  manner  with  absolute 
inflexibility  of  purpose  and  clearness  of  aim.  A great 
poAver  for  good, — a mighty  leavening  power, — he  must 
inevitably  haAm  proved  wherever  it  had  pleased  God’s 
Providence  to  place  him. 

Disappointed  in  his  favourite  project,  Charles  was 
strongly  urged  by  his  Father  to  transfer  some  of  his 
regards  from  the  Science  of  Divinity  to  the  study  of  Law, 
in  order  to  qualify  himself  to  become  an  useful  Magis- 
trate. Accordingly,  he  applied  for  admission  at  Lincoln’s 
Inn  (16  Nov.  1830),  kept  his  Terms  there,  and  until  the 
Trinity  Term  of  1 833  ^ loyally  devoted  himself  to  this 
neAV  pursuit.  His  legal  knowledge  stood  him  through- 
out life  in  excellent  stead.  At  the  time  of  his  death  he 
Avas,  I believe,  the  oldest  Magistrate  in  the  County,  and 
had  been  Chairman  of  the  Bedford  Board  of  Guardians 
ever  since  the  introduction  of  the  New  Poor  Law  into 
the  country. 

Next  to  taking  Holy  Orders  and  professing  Divinity, 
it  was  my  Brother’s  supreme  ambition  to  acquire  a 
thorough  knowledge  of  Medicine.  The  two  pursuits  are 
in  fact  so  strictly  cognate,  that  to  some  extent  they 
ought  to  proceed  together, — as  every  one  who  has  held 
a parochial  cure  has  been  speedily  made  aware.  But  it 
Avas  the  earnestness  of  Charles’  nature  and  the  active 
benevolence  of  his  disposition  Avdiich  induced  him  to 
cherish  in  succession  these  kindred  aims.  He  had,  I 
believe,  no  great  difficulty  in  persuading  his  Father  to 

^ He  witlidrew  his  name  from  tion  of  being  called.  {From  the 
the  books  of  the  Society  Nov.  2nd,  Steward,  hy  favour  of  the  Trea- 
1847,  having  abandoned  his  inten-  surer,  of  Lincolns  Inn.) 


The  Good  Layman. 


377 


1836] 

allow  him  to  walk  the  London  Hospitals  and  study 
Anatomy.  Thus  it  happened  that,  in  the  years  1 836-7-8, 
he  became  a medical  student  at  St.  Bartholomew’s,  and 
qualified  himself  for  practising  whether  as  a physician, 
or  as  a surgeon.  He  was,  throughout  the  period  referred 
to,  a constant  and  most  cherished  guest  at  my  Father’s 
house.  A more  devoted  medical  student  never  lived. 
But  indeed  he  was  an  enthusiast  in  everything  which  he 
seriously  took  up  : and  Anatomical  Science  delighted  him 
greatly.  He  had  for  a fellow-student  Sir  James  Paget, 
— whom  he  often  watched  at  his  work, — and  whose  pro- 
fessional eminence  (as  he  told  me  long  after)  he  confi- 
dently predicted  from  observing  with  what  conscientious 
labour  and  skill  he  prepared  his  anatomical  subjects.  At 
Bedford,  also,  opportunities  of  instruction  in  Medicine 
and  Surgery  presented  themselves.  As  an  instance  of  his 
earnestness  of  purpose,  it  is  remembered  that  twice  a 
week,  throughout  more  than  one  winter,  he  rose  at  five 
in  the  morning,  and  having  saddled  his  pony  himself, 
left  the  Abbey  punctually  as  the  clock  struck  six,  in 
order  to  attend  Dr.  Witt’s  clinical  lecture,  at  seven,  at 
the  Bedford  Infirmary. 

Such  ardour  in  the  pursuit,  ultimately  ensured  real 
skill  in  the  practice  of  Medicine.  With  the  consent  of 
the  Clergy  and  of  the  local  practitioners,  he  attended  the 
destitute  poor  in  all  the  surrounding  villages;  the  signal 
that  he  was  wanted  in  cases  of  sudden  emergency,  at  night, 
being  the  switching  of  his  bedroom  window-pane  with  a 
long  wand  which  lay  for  that  purpose  in  front  of  the 
Abbey,  under  his  window.  So  summoned,  he  would  rise 
instantly,  repair  to  the  stable  in  the  dark,  and  sally 
forth.  Nothing  was  ever  out  of  his  line, — so  promiscuous 
were  the  demands  on  his  benevolence,  and  so  varied  his 
professional  attainments.  He  attended  women  in  their 


378  Charles  Longuet  Higgins:  [1838 

hour  of  direst  need, — extracted  teeth, — couched  for  cata- 
ract,— treated  fractured,  maimed,  and  injured  limbs. 
Throughout  twenty-five  years,  he  was  in  active  practice  ; 
and  for  twenty  of  those  years  had  no  less  than  sixty 
cases  daily  on  his  books.  He  preserved  a description  of 
every  case,  and  of  the  treatment  he  had  adopted  in  respect 
of  each  individual,  together  with  a record  of  what  had 
been  the  result  of  his  treatment ; so  that,  to  the 
end  of  his  life,  he  was  able  in  an  instant  to  identify 
any  particular  case,  however  remote.  Certain  forlorn, 
neglected,  poverty-stricken  villages  (of  which,  forty  or 
fifty  years  ago,  there  were  several  choice  specimens 
within  riding  distance  of  Turvey)  were  his  favourite 
“ hunting  grounds.”  ^ The  practice  became  at  last  es- 
tablished for  the  sick  (men,  women,  children,)  to  come 
over  in  wagons,  and  to  return  after  being  supplied  by 
himself  with  medicine  and  directions  for  its  use.  His 
“ den  ” (as  he  used  to  call  it)  became  converted  into  the 
queerest  of  chemist’s  shops.  It  was  in  that  damp  build- 
ing, by  the  way,  that  the  seeds  were  sown  of  the 
disease  which  undermined  his  strength,  and  so  largely 
impaired  the  comfort  of  his  after  life.  Everyone  coming 
furnished  with  a few  lines  from  the  Incumbent  of  any 
neighbouring  parish,  received  advice  and  was  furnished 
on  the  spot  with  medicine, — which  Charles  made  up 
himself.^ 

No  medical  practitioner  was  ever  more  punctiliously 
alive  to  the  demands  of  his  profession,  or  more  attentive 
to  his  patients  than  was  he.  No  one  ever  had  a harder 
time  of  it.  He  would  tire  out  two  horses  in  a day ; after 

^ One  such  out-of-the-way  village  if  any  of  them  were  furnished  with 
in  particular  is  remembered  where  a floor. — Newton  Blossomville  was 
the  hovels  were  scarcely  furnished  his  undivided  care, 
with  doors  and  windows.  Roofs  ^ From  a memorandum  made 
they  had,  but  it  may  be  questioned  after  conversation,  Sept.  i6th,  i88i. 


The  Good  Layman. 


379 


1848] 

which,  if  sent  for,  he  would  walk.  I have  often  seen  him 
rise  from  dinner  at  a whisper  from  the  servant  behind  his 
chair,  and  quietly  withdraw, — even  when  strangers  were 
present.  Such  devotion  to  his  work  provoked  remon- 
strance. His  old  College  friend,  John  Noble,  after  a short 
visit  to  Turvey  in  1848,  wrote, — 

“I  am  clearly  of  opinion  you  work  too  hard.  Dear 
old  Simeon  used  to  say,  ‘ I do  less  that  I may  do  more.’ 
I fear  you  are  going  beyond  the  limits  of  one  man’s 
ability ; and  that  you  are  weakening  your  strength  in 
the  midst  of  your  days.  Take  an  old  friend’s  advice  who 
loves  you.  Cut  off  your  medical  practice  in  distant 
villages,  and  confine  yourself  to  your  own  parishioners. 
Give  yourself  a little  more  relaxation.”^ 

A characteristic  anecdote  shall  be  added,  with  which 
this  part  of  the  subject  may  be  dismissed.  His  wife 
relates  as  follows  : — 

“ Many  years  before  our  marriage,  when  Charles  was 
in  the  height  of  his  medical  practice,  an  unusually  pain- 
ful case  occurred  in  the  village.  A young  woman  was 
seized  with  such  violent  hemorrhage  that  the  only  possible 
remedial  expedient  was  declared  to  be  transfusion, — for  so 
I believe  the  operation  is  called.  The  local  doctor  said 
that  life  might  in  this  way  be  saved,  if  any  one  would 
consent  to  let  him  take  blood  which  he  might  transfuse 
into  the  girl.  The  proper  instrument  not  being  at  hand, 
a man  was  hastily  despatched  to  procure  it  from  the 
Bedford  Infirmary.  In  the  meantime  dearest  Charles 
offered  himself,  and  sat  with  his  arm  ready  bared,  so  that 
not  a moment  might  be  lost  when  the  messenger  returned. 
Before  the  man  could  get  back  however,  the  sufferer  had 
expired.  My  dearest  one  related  this  to  me,  and  told  me 
of  the  excitement  of  the  people  when  they  found  that  blood 
was  to  have  been  taken  from  him  and  passed  into  the 
poor  girl’s  system.  I mention  it  to  show  how  freely  he 
gave  everything  he  possessed  to  the  poor.” 


^ Nether  Broughton,  Melton  Mowhray ,~A.\yg.  2,  1848. 


380  Charles  Longuet  Higgins:  [1846 

Let  it  not  be  supposed  however  that  Divinity,  Medi- 
cine, and  Natural  Science  so  engrossed  him  as  to  leave 
room  for  nothing  else.  His  restless  and  inquiring  spirit 
found  continual  exercise  and  ever  varying  occupation. 
Besides  being  an  active  Magistrate,  and  interesting  him- 
self greatly  in  County  matters,  as  well  as  in  whatever 
concerned  his  Fathers  estate,  he  was  the  general  friend 
and  adviser  of  the  labouring  poor  of  Turvey.  At  home, 
he  was  a great  reader  of  History, — a great  lover  of 
books.  He  kept  pace  with  the  literature  of  the  day.  * But 
in  particular  (it  should  have  been  before  mentioned)  a 
passion  for  Music  dominated  in  the  family,  and  the  Art 
had  been  scientifically  cultivated  by  both  the  brothers. 
While  their  sister  Mary  touched  the  piano,  Charles’s 
violoncello  and  Henry’s  violin  used  to  enliven  the  long 
evenings  with  Corelli’s  classic  compositions,  or  Handel’s 
matchless  strains. 

The  death  of  Mr.  John  Higgins  at  the  age  of  78, 
(November  14th,  1846, — his  wife,  Theresa,  had  died  in 
the  preceding  year,) — marked  an  epoch  in  the  history  of 
Turvey.  Charles  Longuet,  now  40  years  of  age,  had  for 
a long  time  suffered  greatly  from  asthma.  Strange  to 
relate,  his  malady,  as  I hinted  just  now,  was  nothing  else 
but  the  result,  in  the  first  instance,  of  the  wretchedly 
damp  quarters  in  which  so  many  of  his  younger  years 
had  been  too  exclusively  spent, — aggravated  by  the 
extraordinary  accumulation  of  vegetable  life  in  the 
immediate  vicinity  of  his  dwelling.  The  disease, 
once  established  in  his  constitution,  proved  inveterate. 
He  was  at  last  constrained  to  get  a bed  at  the 
Bectory, — (it  is  not  ten  minutes’  walk  from  the  Abbey), — 
in  order  to  procure  a night’s  repose.  Left  to  himself, 
Charles  instantly  felled  several  thousand  trees, — much  to 


The  Good  Layman. 


381 


1847] 

the  improvement  of  the  general  aspect,  as  well  as  of  the 
salubrity  of  the  place ; but  unhappily  without  by  any 
means  producing  the  beneficial  result  to  his  own  health 
which  he  expected.  The  mischief  had,  in  fact,  by  this 
time  proceeded  too  far  for  the  woodman’s  axe  to  be  able 
to  remedy  it  at  once,  or  indeed  at  all.  He  was  ordered 
to  pass  the  winter  in  a warm  dry  climate  as  a measure 
of  self-preservation.  One  of  those  junctures  had  arrived 
to  him  which  come  but  rarely  in  the  course  of  a long 
life, — where  paramount  duty  and  strong  inclination 
exactly  conspire.  Charles  resolved  to  visit  Egypt,  the 
Peninsula  of  Sinai,  and  the  Holy  Land.  His  plan  was 
matured  with  the  least  possible  delay.  His  brother 
Henry  was  to  bear  him  company.  On  the  3rd  of  January, 
1848,  he  crossed  the  threshold  of  his  home,  and  on  the 
6th  took  leave  of  the  shores  of  England,  followed  by  the 
prayers  of  a grateful  village  and  an  attached  neighbour- 
hood. 

The  brothers  were  joined  at  Alexandria  by  Mr.  de 
Grille.  They  went  only  a little  way  up  the  Nile : then, 
struck  across  the  desert  from  Cairo  for  the  Convent  of 
S.  Catharine,  and  entered  the  Holy  Land  by  way  of 
Hebron, — taking  Petra  and  Mount  Hor  in  their  way. 
This  dry  desert  journey  wrought  wonders  for  Charles. 
He  declared  that  he  ‘ could  have  carried  the  camel.’ 
But  he  was  ill  on  the  Nile, — the  moist  air  affecting  him 
greatly.  The  travellers  succeeded  in  their  object,  which 
was  to  reach  Jerusalem  (April  8th)  in  ample  time  to 
witness  the  solemnities  of  Holy  Week  and  Easter.  The 
journal  in  which  my  brother  from  day  to  day  jotted 
down  his  impressions,  was  lost  out  of  his  saddle-bag, — to 
the  infinite  regret  of  many  besides  himself.  From  a 
briefer  memorandum-book  which  lies  before  me,  it  is 
found  that  having  inspected  every  object  of  interest  in  that 


382  Charles  Longuet  Higgins:  [1847 

sacred  locality, — having  visited  Bethlehem  and  Bethany, 
Bachel’s  tomb  and  Emmaus, — having  accompanied  the 
pilgrims  to  Jericho  and  the  Jordan, — having  bathed  in 
the  Dead  Sea  and  taken  many  a thoughtful  walk  with 
his  brother  round  the  ancient  walls  of  ‘ the  Holy  City  ’ ; 
— he  left  Jerusalem  on  Easter  Tuesday  (April  25th), — 
not  without  casting  many  ‘ a longing,  lingering  look 
behind.’  How  can  a man  do  otherwise  who  gazes  for  the 
last  time  on  the  hills  which  ‘ stand  about  Jerusalem  ’ ; ^ 
— at  the  olive  groves  with  which  they  are  dotted  over ; 
— at  Gethsemane,  and  Cedron,  and  Siloam  and  the 
Better’s  Field  ? . . . “ On  the  summit  of  a hill  about  two 
miles  north  of  Jerusalem  ” (he  writes)  “ we  paused  to 
take  a last  look  at  the  blessed  spot.  ‘ Beace  be  within 
thy  walls  ! ’ ” 

To  one  of  his  temperament,  (what  need  to  say  it  ?) 
the  entire  journey  was  a continual  source  of  the  most 
exalted  gratification.  He  had  never  before  quitted  his 
native  land,  and  now  he  found  himself  visiting  every  most 
sacred  spot  on  the  earth’ s surface, — the  scenes,  which 
beyond  all  others,  he  had  from  his  earliest  childhood 
most  ardently  desired  to  feed  his  eyes  upon.  In  a book 
called  a ‘ Flam  Commentary  on  the  Gospels  ’ (published  more 
than  thirty  years  ago)  several  descriptive  hints  from  his 
pen  will  be  found  acknowledged  in  their  proper  places.  ® 
Every  object  he  saw, — every  place  he  visited, — every 
sight  he  witnessed, — recalled  Old  Testament  narrative, 
or  Gospel  incident,  or  prophetic  doom.  A sharp  fit  of 
dysentery  at  Tiberias  (Sunday,  April  30th)  failed  to 
damp  his  ardour,  or  materially  to  darken  his  recollections 
of  Balestine.  He  ascribed  his  speedy  recovery  (under 

^ Ps.  cxxv.  2,  and  iv.  5,  6,  40.  Again  at  S.  Luke 

® As,  in  the  notes  on  S.  John  ii.  i vii.  ii. 


1847]  The  Good  Layman.  383 

God)  in  no  small  degree  to  his  own  knowledge  of  medi- 
cine ; for,  ill  as  he  was,  he  was  able  to  manufacture  for 
himself  appropriate  boluses  of  opium.  His  method  was, 
wherever  he  went,  to  surrender  himself, — heart  and  soul, 
— to  the  associations  of  every  traditional  locality.  He 
was  not  the  man  to  ask  inconvenient  questions  about 
the  site  of  the  Holy  Sepulchre,  or  the  scene  of  the 
Transfiguration.  Delighted  with  everything  he  saw,  and 
with  everybody  he  met,  he  exhibited  in  perfection  the 
happiest  frame  of  mind  in  which  a traveller  can  visit 
Palestine.  In  the  Convent  at  Bethlehem,  where  there  is 
a little  organ,  he  played  ‘ Adeste  Jideles  ’ with  so  much 
success  that  the  monks  kissed  him  and  cried.  At  every 
sacred  locality  which  he  visited  (in  number  136),  he 
collected  plants  which  he  preserved  and  brought  away 
as  memorials  of  his  journey.  Very  pleasant  it  was,  long 
after,  to  see  the  dear  fellow  kindle  at  the  mention  of 
Hebron  and  Jerusalem,  Bethlehem  and  Bethany;  and  go 
over  with  delight  the  circumstances  under  which  he  had 
become  acquainted  with  Bethel  and  Shiloh,  Jacob’s  Well 
at  Sychar,  the  plain  of  Esdraelon  and  Jezreel,  Nain  and 
Nazareth,  Cana  and  the  Kishon  and  Carmel  ; but  above 
all, — the  sea  of  Galilee, — on  which  he  contrived  to  get 
afloat,  although  no  boat  was  procurable.  He  witnessed 
a storm  on  that  lake  which  (in  his  own  language)  “made 
it  hoil  like  a pot  A The  brothers  ended  their  journey  by 
visiting  Tyre,  (‘  a melancholy  specimen  of  Eastern 
poverty  and  misery  ’),  Sarepta,  Sidon,  Damascus,  Baalbec, 
and  the  Lebanon.  Beturning  to  Beirout,  they  embarked 
for  England  May  i6th,  and  reached  Southampton  on  the 
7 th  of  June.  The  day  after,  Charles  came  over  to  see 
us  in  London,  and  was  fuller  than  ever  of  interest.  Two 
days  later,  he  set  foot  again  in  Turvey, — having  been 
absent  from  England  just  five  months. 


384  Charles  Longuet  Higgins:  [1848 

His  first  care  on  his  return, — (but  in  fact  he  was  only 
yielding  to  an  imperative  necessity), — was  again  to  fell 
several  thousand  trees  both  before  and  immediately 
behind  the  Abbey.  The  necessity  for  taking  this  step 
was  apparent  even  to  a casual  observer.  His  friend  John 
Noble,  after  visiting  him  in  the  summer  of  1848,  con- 
cludes a letter  of  friendly  counsel,  thus, — 

“ Open  your  house  and  grounds  to  the  purifying  and 
cheering  influences  of  the  country  breezes, — ‘ God 
Almighty’s  physic,’  as  a good  friend  of  mine  used  to 
call  it.” 

The  prescribed  remedy  was  in  every  way  productive 
of  excellent  consequences : the  most  apparent  result 
being  that  it  rendered  inevitable  the  remodelling  of  the 
ancient  garden, — which  by  this  time  had  become  entirely 
choked  with  forest  timber.  Those  trees  were  now  largely 
cleared  away.  A large  pond  on  the  west  side  of  the 
lawn  was  filled  up,  and  certain  lugubrious  willows  were 
not  left  behind  to  weep  its  disappearance.  Long  rows  of 
yew  shared  the  fate  of  the  tall  elms.  It  cost  Charles  a 
real  pang  to  deal  so  mercilessly  with  the  friends  of  his 
youth ; but  it  had  become  a question  of  life  or  death. 
He  next  set  resolutely  to  work  on  the  denuded  area,  and 
at  once  made  the  garden  what  it  has  ever  since  been, 
and  at  this  instant  is : viz.  little  else  but  an  unusually 
ample  sweep  of  unbroken  lawn  bisected  by  a long 
straight  gravel  walk,  and  terminating, — but  at  some 
distance  from  the  house, — in  a considerable  plantation  ; 
the  whole  being  separated  off  from  the  adjoining  park  by 
a low  iron  railing  and  a depressed  stone  wall.  His 
theory  of  a pleasure  garden  was  in  the  main  a most  agree- 
able one : viz.  that  it  should  be  green  all  the  year  round, 
and  therefore  should  almost  exclusively  abound  in  yews, 
^ Nether  Broughton,  Aug.  2nd,  1848. 


The  Good  Layman. 


385 


1846] 

laurels,  and  above  all,  box  trees  : — that  the  latter  should 
for  the  most  part  be  cropped,  so  as  to  present  to  the  eye  a 
smooth  trim  appearance : — that  the  principal  walk  should 
be  straight,  and  broad  enough  to  admit  of  several  persons 
walking  abreast : — that  flowers  as  well  as  fruits  should 
be  studiously  relegated  to  a separate  part  of  the  domain, 
duly  enclosed  by  a high  wall.  I have  often  heard  him 
say  that  if  he  had  had  the  contriving  of  his  own 
pleasure  garden  from  the  first,  he  would  have  admitted 
no  forest  tree  within  its  precincts.  There  is  a great  deal 
to  be  said  in  favour  of  this,  which  is  the  ancient  notion 
of  a garden, — as  contrasted  with  the  modern  fashion  of 
somewhat  narrow,  serpentine  walks, — a lawn  cut  up  with 
flower-beds, — and  forest  trees  encouraged  to  grow  where- 
ever  practicable.  Soothing  to  the  eye  certainly,  in  a high 
degree,  is  such  a garden  as  that  which  I am  at  this 
instant  surveying,  and  which  to  a singular  extent  bears 
the  impress  of  the  taste  of  its  recent  owner  ; grave, — yet 
cheerful  as  he  was,  and  cheerful  all  the  year  round. 

It  was  remarked  above,  that  the  death  of  my  friend's 
Father  in  1846  formed  an  epoch  in  the  history  of  Turvey. 
True,  that  the  traditions  of  the  daily  life  were  faithfully 
retained  at  the  Abbey  : but  it  was  as  when  the  close  of  a 
book  has  been  reached,  and  we  must  needs  take  up  another 
volume.  The  dear  old  man’s  death  had  occasioned  an 
effectual  break,  and  cleared  the  way  for  many  salutary 
changes.  His  views,  modes  of  thought,  habits, — all  be- 
longed to  a far  away  generation.  He  thought  no  Church 
complete  which  was  unfurnished  with  a gallery.  Satisfied 
with  the  tranquil  surroundings  of  his  own  dwelling,  he 
could  not  understand  the  need  of  ‘ change  of  scene.’  But 
then,  he  had  also  never  known  a day’s  illness,  and  could 
not  understand  why  some  required  ‘ change  of  air  ’ either. 

VOL.  II.  c c 


386  Charles  Longuet  Higgins:  [1847 

(“Walk  to  the  end  of  your  garden,” — he  used  to  say, — 
“and  you  have  ‘changed  the  air’  completely!”).  Never 
to  the  last  was  he  able  entirely  to  divest  himself  of  the 
notion  that  a journey  to  London  was  an  undertaking 
destined,  in  the  nature  of  things,  to  occupy  two  whole 
days ; and  to  come  to  an  end,  on  the  evening  of  the 
second  day,  at  ‘ The  George  and  blue  Boar’ — (which  used 
to  be  the  designation  of  a vast  coaching  hostel,) — in 
Holborn.  For  many  years  he  made  these  periodical 
journeys,  (to  be  the  guest  of  the  Thorntons  at  Clapham, 
or  of  Sir  Harry  Inglis  at  Battersea),  in  a kind  of  open 
curricle,  stopping  on  the  road  to  inspect  and  sketch  the 
Churches,  as  well  as  to  recruit  nature  and  to  rest.  On 
such  occasions,  “ old  Benbow,”  (a  spoilt  domestic  who 
had  come  into  the  service  of  the  family  in  1791,  and 
had  quite  become  master  of  the  situation),  arrayed  in 
brilliant  plush,  used  to  ride  in  front, — a singularly  stout 
party,  with  a round,  rubicund  face.  I have  heard  the 
equipage  described  as  a truly  grotesque  apparition  when 
seen  traversing  Bond  Street : Benbow,  the  outrider,  (alone 
of  mankind)  “ wondering  what  the  people  were  staring 
at  ? ”...  In  fact,  except  on  his  pony,  (“  Graphy’’ — whose 
name  was  of  course  bestowed  to  furnish  opportunity  for 
a series  of  pleasantries  about  “ yt'-o-graph}^”  ^^top-d- 
graphy,”  etc.), — my  friend’s  father  seldom  stirred  from 
home.  To  the  day  of  his  death,  he  never  altogether 
believed  in  the  railway. — And  now,  to  wake  up. 

In  the  Spring  of  1847,  before  the  state  of  his  health 
drove  him  from  his  home,  Charles  had  begun  to  give 
effect  to  the  aspirations  which  he  had  cherished  for  the 
last  20  years,  by  setting  about  building,  in  the  most 
substantial  manner,  and  on  an  unusually  large  scale,  a 
^National  School’  and  ^School  House’  for  the  village.  It 


1850] 


The  Good  Layman, 


3S7 


was  not  till  the  year  1852  that  he  added  the  spacious 
‘ Museum  ’ which  he  designed  should  ultimately  become 
the  Library  of  the  Archdeaconry,  and  receive  his  books. 
Contiguous  thereto,  (they  form  in  fact  one  block  of 
buildings),  a ‘ Eeaclmg-room  ’ was  erected  for  the  use  of 
the  artizans  of  the  parish,  and  a cottage  for  the  residence 
of  the  Matron  who  was  to  have  the  care  of  the  establish- 
ment. But  in  the  meantime  (viz.  in  1849,  1850,  1851,) 
he  built  (6-1-24+18  = ) forty-eight  substantial  cottages, 
besides  shops  and  so  forth.  Six  more  cottages,  in 
addition  to  an  Mnfant-ScJiooV  and  residence  for  the 
Mistress,  were  the  work  of  1853.  1861,  three  more 

cottages  followed,  and  ‘ the  Tinker  ’ — an  Inn  of  some 
literary  celebrity  ^ — was  converted  into  other  three  dwell- 
ing-houses. He  thus  erected  in  all  upwards  of  60  cottage 
residences : every  two  (as  he  once  told  me)  costing  him 
300/.  I may  not  dismiss  the  present  topic  without 
commemorating  the  improvement  which  resulted,  not 
only  to  the  outward  aspect  of  the  village  but  to  the 
comfort  and  moral  condition  of  the  people,  by  the  sub- 
stitution of  so  many  excellent  cottages, — placed  for  the 
most  part  on  a raised  terrace,  and  provided  with  every  re- 
quirement for  decency  and  comfort,  as  well  as  furnished 
severally  with  a small  garden, — in  room  of  the  squalid 
tenements  which  skirted  the  public  way  when  first  I 
knew  Turvey.  The  effect  on  the  salubrity  of  the  place 
has  since  become  marked.  Consumption,  which  once 
prevailed,  is  now  scarcely  known  there.  Turvey  has,  in 
fact,  become  a model  village. 

® A lewd  black-letter  ballad  ex-  of  the  Inn  used  to  be  seen  the  fol- 
ists  entitled  ' /Ae  q/*  lowing  distich, — ‘The  tinker  of 

Ms  merry  pastime,  in  Ms  passing  Turvey,  Ms  dog  and  Ms  staff.  Old 
from  Billingsgate  to  Graves-end,'  Nell  with  her  budget  will  make  a 
&c.  1630,  4to. — Beneath  the  sign  man  laughs 

C C 2 


388  Charles  Lonquet  Higgins:  [1850 

But  I am  proceeding  too  fast.  The  supreme  object 
of  my  brother’s  holy  ambition  had  all  along  been  to  re- 
edify  his  ancient  parish  Church.  It  was  originally  early 
Norman, — as  two  windows  which  came  to  light  in  the 
course  of  restoration  attest.  But  it  had  undergone  many 
changes : and  by  this  time  exhibited  many  a token  of 
neglect.  Four  grand  monuments  of  as  many  generations 
of  the  Mordaunts  imparted  to  it  something  of  historical 
interest ; but  it  seemed  unaccountable  how  such  im- 
portant memorials  of  the  ancient  lords  of  the  soil  could 
have  been  suffered  to  fall  into  such  utter  decadence. 
The  truth  is,  Drayton  (in  Northamptonshire)  had  been 
the  favourite  residence  of  the  family  ever  since  the  time 
of  Lewis,  3rd  Lord  Mordaunt  [1576-1601]  : from  which 
period  the  old  Hall  at  Turvey  was  but  rarely  in- 
habited;^ while  Turvey  Church — (the  Mordaunts  were 


® It  was  at  Drayton  in  1625  that 
Abp.  Ussher  held  his  famous  con- 
troversy with  Beaumont,  the  Jesuit, 
in  the  presence  of  John,  first  Earl 
of  Peterborough  and  his  Countess. 
On  the  other  hand,  it  was  fi-om 
Turvey,  where  ‘ he  happened  to  be 
residing,’  that  Henry,  the  second 
Earl,  rode  over  to  Ampthill,  in 
order  to  wait  on  his  Eoyal  Master 
K.  Charles  I,  who  was  being  con- 
ducted a prisoner  to  London  after 
his  apprehension  at  Holmby, — 3rd 
June,  1647.  The  incident  is  so 
interestingly  related  by  Lord  Peter- 
borough himself  (who  dictated  the 
story  to  his  Chaplain)  that  it  may 
be  allowed  insertion  here ; the 
rather,  because  it  has  escaped  the 
notice  of  those  who  have  written 
the  history  of  the  period,  being  hid 
away  in  an  exceedingly  rare  pri- 
vately-printed volume : — 

“ His  Majesty  happened  one 


night  in  his  journey  to  be  lodged 
at  Ampthill,  where  it  was  designed 
he  should  rest  a day  or  two.  At 
hearing  hereof  (the  Earl’s  house 
not  being  seven  miles  from  thence) 
he  thought  it  his  duty  to  endeavour 
to  see  his  sacred  Master,  and  try  if 
he  could  have  occasion  to  be  useful 
to  him  in  any  kind.  He  rose  then, 
and  by  eleven  of  the  clock  came  to 
the  house  where  the  King  lay.  Not 
without  some  difl&culty  he  got  to  be 
admitted  where  he  was,  and  found 
his  Majesty  going  to  the-prayers 
usual  before  his  dinner.  After  they 
were  performed,  he  kneeled  down 
for  the  honour  of  his  Majesty’s 
hand  ; but  had  only  opportunity  for 
the  ordinary  compliments,  being 
overlooked  by  the  Officers  appointed 
to  observe  the  addresses  and  beha- 
viour of  all  that  did  approach  him. 
Cheerfulness  there  was  not  much  in 
the  King’s  looks,  but  no  disorder : 


1852] 


The  Good  Layman. 


389 


Romanists) — was  never  visited  by  them  at  all.  I recall 
with  astonishment  the  fact  that  one  of  the  ancient 
vaults  of  the  family, — (it  stood  in  the  north-east  angle 
of  the  old  Chancel), — was  accessible  by  an  open  trap- 
door in  the  floor.  Any  one  might  raise  this  at  pleasure 
and  descend  into  the  vault.  I once  did  so.  Nearest  to 
me  was  a coffin  covered  with  crimson  velvet, — the  coffin 
of  a lady  whose  long  golden  tresses  I could  discern  and 
take  into  my  hand. 


It  was  in  the  year  that,  after  long  deliberation, 

the  dear  friend  the  story  of  whose  life  I am  telling, 
undertook  at  his  own  cost,  under  the  professional 
guidance  of  Sir  Gilbert  Scott,  the  enterprise  of  completely 
restoring  Turvey  Church.  Commenced  on  the  19th  of 
July,  the  work  was  happily  completed  at  the  end  of 
rather  more  than  two  years.  It  proved  a laborious 
as  well  as  an  expensive  business,  though  the  quarry 


which  supplied  the  materii 

grave  they  were,  but  distinguish- 
ing to  any  he  took  for  friends ; and 
injured  goodness  appeared  in  every 
motion.  The  dinner  was  soon 
brought  up,  during  which  the  Earl 
waited  by  him,  and  near  the  end  of 
it  the  Officers  withdrew,  and  all 
except  the  guards  of  the  door.  The 
Earl  quickly  took  the  opportunity 
of  asking  his  Majesty — ‘ If  there 
were  any  thing  wherein  he  might 
be  served  with  the  hazard  of  his 
life  and  fortune  ? ’ The  King  an- 
swered,— ‘ He  was  not  in  a place  to 
take  any  measures,  but  would  have 
him  advise  with  those  that  were 
his  friends,’  The  Earl  said  no  more, 
by  reason  of  the  villainous  jailors 
returning  : so  he  took  his  leave  and 
departed  home,  full  of  indignation 
against  the  times,  the  nation,  and 


3 was  close  at  hand.  Not 

fortune  ; resolving,  though  he  were 
at  ease  and  had  made  his  peace,  to 
expose  wife,  estate,  quiet,  and  his 
life  upon  any  undertaking  wherein 
there  should  be  a reasonable  appear- 
ance of  relieving  the  best  of  Kings,” 
The  scene  of  the  foregoing  inci- 
dent will  have  been  Ampthill  Castle, 
— the  site  of  which  is  marked  by 
an  obelisk  (with  a sorry  inscrip- 
tion by  Horace  Walpole)  in  Ampt- 
hill Park,  Queen  Catharine  of 
Arragon  was  confined  there.  From 
Turvey  to  Ampthill — begging  the 
Earl’s  pardon — is  not  7,  but  about 
II  miles  ‘ as  the  crow  flies,’ 

The  above  extract  is  from  p,  410 
of  Halstead’s  Succinct  Genealogies, 
&c,,  of  which  something  will  be 
found  below,  at  p,  404 ; and  see 
above,  pp,  149-50. 


390 


Charles  Longuet  Higgins:  [1853 

many  hundred  yards  to  the  south  of  the  Church  (on  a part 
of  his  estate  called  ‘ Baker’s  close  ’)  my  Brother  caused 
certain  old  stone-pits  to  be  re-excavated  ; which  the 
Architect,  on  inspection,  pronounced  to  be  incontestably 
the  same  out  of  which  the  edifice  had  been  originally 
constructed,  half-a-thousand  years  before.  But,  as  I 
have  said,  the  undertaking  proved  a serious  one.  The 
whole  area  of  the  Church,  it  was  found,  had  been  used 
as  one  vast  sepulchre, — interments  having  taken  place 
in  every  direction,  for  eight  centuries  and  upwards,  im- 
mediately beneath  the  fioor.  In  consequence  of  the 
insecurity  thus  caused  to  the  foundations,  all  the 
pillars  and  arches  on  both  sides  of  the  nave  up  to 
the  tower,  had  to  be  taken  down, — besides  the  western 
arch  and  pillars.  New  foundations,  carried  down  below 
the  bottom  of  the  disturbed  soil,  were  built  under 
every  pillar,  which  was  then  re-erected  in  its  original 
form.  The  old  Chancel  was  demolished  for  the  purpose 
of  lengthening  the  nave,  and  the  foundations  for  a new 
Chancel  were  dug  out  of  the  Churchyard.  In  ex- 
cavating for  the  foundations  of  the  present  spacious 
chancel-arch,  the  remains  were  discovered  of  the  famous 
warrior  and  statesman.  Sir  John  Mordaunt  (1484), 
whose  fine  recumbent  effigy,  with  that  of  the  Lady  Edith 
Latimer,  his  wife,  are  now  to  be  seen  in  their  original 
position  in  S.  Mary’s  Chapel.  It  was  “ a stone  grave, 
arched  at  top.  No  coffin  appeared  to  have  been  em- 
ployed ; but  the  grave  had  been  formed  nearly  to  fit 
the  body, — being  composed  of  fiat  rough  stones  laid  at 
the  bottom,  and  others  of  the  same  kind  but  smaller 
set  up  at  the  sides.  The  arch  over  the  top  was  of 
small  stones  laid  in  lime.”  The  bones,  which  were 
those  of  a man  above  the  average  stature,  were  not 
disturbed.  Beligious  care  was  also  taken  not  to  inter- 


The  Good  Layman. 


391 


1853] 

fere  at  all  with  the  grave  of  John,  second  Lord  Mordaunt 
(1572),  and  the  Lady  Joane  his  wife, — whose  romantic 
story  (for  they  had  first  met  at  Framlingham  Castle  in 
1553)  a peculiar  charm  for  Charles.  But  to  discover 
them,  sleeping  side  by  side  in  death, — and  to  note  that 
they  lay  in  silken  shrouds  which  still  preserved  their 
colour,  and  that  the  hair  of  the  lady  seemed  to  have 
grown  after  death, — this  was  inevitable.  The  sight 
affected  him  deeply. 

“The  forms”  (he  writes)  “in  which  had  dwelt  so 
much  of  beauty,  and  illustrious  descent,  and  high  chival- 
rous bearing,  were  thus  again  after  nearly  three  hundred 
years  brought  to  light, — but  in  appearance  how  different ! 
There  lay  the  Knight,  his  head  reclining  as  on  a pillow,  a 
little  bent  forward,  and  his  chin  leaning  on  his  breast  : 
while  the  courtly  dame,  a little  lower  and  to  the  left  of 
her  lord,  seemed  to  sleep  quietly  by  his  side.  They  were 
not  interfered  with  in  any  wise,  and  may  possibly  rest 
undisturbed  until  the  Eesurrection  morning.”  ^ 

In  their  case  also  there  had  been  no  coffin, — the  bodies 
having  been  merely  covered  with  large  ffat  rough  stones. 
These  were  simply  replaced  and  carefully  sealed  over. 
While  this  great  work  was  in  progress  (1852-54),  being 
on  a visit  to  my  brother,  I inspected  the  Church  when  a 
principal  vault  of  the  Mordaunts  happened  to  be  lying 
uncovered.  It  was  a small  square  chamber  on  the  north 
side  of  the  present  Chancel;  immediately  above  which, — 
(for  it  was  afterwards  solidly  arched  over,) — the  organ 
now  stands.  On  the  ffoor  of  the  vault  lay  six  leaden 
coffins,  uninscribed,  unadorned,  wholly  undistinguishable 
one  from  another : headed  by  one  human  form,  swathed 

^ From  a paper  on  ‘ Tnrvey  ological  Society,’ — I believe  in  1863. 
Church  and  its  Monuments, — read  \Bedford,  p.  15.]  It  had  also  been 
at  a general  meeting  of  the  Bed-  a Village  Lecture, 
fordshire  Architectural  and  Archse- 


392  Charles  Longuet  Higgins:  [1853 

in  lead,  which  alone  could  be  identified.^  It  was  Charles, 
8th  Baron  Mordaunt  of  Turvey,  3rd  Earl  of  Peter- 
borough, 2nd  Baron  of  By  gate,  and  2nd  Viscount 
Mordaunt  of  Avalon,  ist  Earl  of  Monmouth, — the 
‘ Mordanto  ’ of  Pope  and  Swift,  and  himself  one  of 
the  most  extraordinary  men  of  his  age, — who  died  at 
Lisbon  in  1735.  A more  impressive  homily  I have 
never  had  addressed  to  me. 

While  the  work  of  renovating  Turvey  Church  was  in 
progress,  Charles  Longuet  became  united  in  marriage  to 
a lady  he  had  long  known,  and  to  whom  he  had  been 
long  attached,  — Helen  Eliza,  youngest  daughter  of 
Thomas  Burgon,  esq.,  of  the  British  Museum.  It  was 
their  earnest  desire  that  Dr.  Pusey  should  marry  them  ; 
but  he  explained  that  he  ‘ had  not  been  called  upon  to 
celebrate  the  marriage  Service  these  1 5 years,’  and 
dreaded  creating  a precedent  which  might  involve  a 
large  employment  of  time.  “ If  I once  begin,  I may  be 
often  asked,  and  should  have  difficulty  in  declining  in 
any  case.”  ^ They  were  married  at  Munster  Square  on 
the  26th  of  July,  1853.  Her  eldest  sister  was  already  the 
wife  of  the  late  excellent  Archdeacon  of  Bedford,  the 
Ven.  Henry  John  Bose,  Bector  of  Houghton  Conquest  in 
the  same  county.^  Helen  proved  the  zealous  promoter 
of  all  her  husband’s  schemes  of  benevolence  and  useful- 
ness, ministered  most  tenderly  to  him  in  his  declining 
years,  and,  by  her  unremitting  watchfulness  and  care, 
prolonged  (if  the  expression  be  lawful)  the  precious  life 
which  else  must  have  come  long  since  to  a close.  No 
woman  was  ever  more  truly  a “ help  ” to  her  husband  ; 

^ There  was  a small  inscribed  i8th,  1853. 
lozenge,  I think  of  brass,  on  his  * His  virtuous  life  and  bright 
chest.  example  are  commemorated  above, 

^ Pusey,  near  Faringdon, — July  in  vol.  i.  pp.  284-295. 


The  Good  Layman. 


393 


1854] 

sharing, — to  a fault,  if  that  were  possible, — his  every 
sorrow  ; enhancing, — (it  was  touching  to  hear  him  avow 
it  at  their  village  festivities), — the  satisfaction  of  his 
every  success.  And  now,  to  proceed  with  what  I was 
before  saying. 

The  restoration  of  Turvey  Church  was  brought  to  a 
close  in  1854,  when  (on  the  loth  October)  the  edifice 
was  re-consecrated  by  Thomas,  Bishop  of  Ely.  The 
ancient  monumental  efiigies  of  the  Mordaunts  had  all 
been  religiously  cared  for,  and  protected  against  risk  of 
future  injury.  Every  window  was  now  filled  with 
stained  glass.  Finally,  the  Church  itself  had  been 
lengthened  by  one  additional  bay : — an  entirely  new 
Chancel  had  been  added ; — and  this  had  been  furnished 
with  a splendid  Organ,  built  in  conformity  with  his 
taste,  and  under  his  directions.  Nothing  had  been 
spared.  It  remained  only  to  form  and  train  a village 
Choir;  and  the  contrast  between  the  dilapidated  edifice 
of  other  days,  with  its  sordid  furniture,  high  pews,  over- 
powering gallery,  uncouth  minstrelsy,  was  complete. 
Turvey  became  the  centre  of  a movement  for  effectually 
improving  the  choral  element  in  the  neighbouring 
parishes,  which,  under  the  energetic  guidance  of  one 
enthusiastic  spirit,  spread  in  every  direction  “ until  the 
whole  was  leavened.”  Charles  Longuet  Higgins  has 
been  deservedly  styled  “ The  Father  of  Church  Music  ” 
in  the  county  of  Bedford.  Many  years  after,  at  the 
Bristol  Church  Congress,  before  which  he  had  under- 
taken to  read  a paper  on  Village  Psalmody,  the  thought 
struck  him  that  the  best  way  to  exhibit  the  deficiency 
of  the  ancient  method  would  be  to  set  before  the 
auditory  a sample  of  it  by  extemporising  a vocal  illus- 
tration. The  effect  was  extraordinary.  The  audience 


394  Charles  Longuet  Higgins:  [i860 

was  convulsed.  The  reporters  present  laughed  so 
heartily  and  so  long,  that,  blinded  with  tears,  they  were 
simply  unable  to  proceed  with  their  function.  . . . He 
now  resumed  his  place  at  the  Organ,  and  became  the  in- 
defatigable Choir-master  of  the  parish, — duties  which  he 
never  more  abandoned  ; until,  in  fact,  at  the  end  of  five- 
and-forty  years,  he  was  constrained  through  infirmity 
to  resign  the  offices  he  was  so  fond  of,  into  other  hands. 

It  was  indeed  one  great  characteristic  of  the  man 
whose  life  I am  pourtraying,  that  he  would  persevere 
thus  inflexibly,  punctually,  cheerfully  in  the  discharge 
of  any  established  claim  of  duty.  Even  better  deserving 
of  admiration  than  the  works  which  he  achieved,  was 
the  moral  energy  with  which  he  sought  to  ensure  that 
due  effect  should  be  given  to  every  organization  for  good, 
which  his  zeal  had  created,  or  in  which  he  found  himself 
called  upon  to  take  part.  The ‘Clubs  which  he  had  long 
since  set  on  foot  for  the  benefit  of  the  parishioners  in 
sickness  and  old  age,  he  retained  to  the  very  last  under 
his  own  management ; and  the  forenoon  of  every  Mon- 
day he  religiously  set  apart  for  the  business  connected 
with  them.  No  other  claim  was,  under  any  pretence, 
suffered  to  interfere  with  this.  For  eight-and-forty  years, 
(it  provoked  general  remark,)  his  carriage  drove  up  to 
his  door  punctually  at  8.45  on  a Saturday  morning,  to 
convey  him  to  the  Board  of  Guardians  which  met  at 
Bedford  at  10.  Kegardless  of  the  weather  and  of  his 
personal  convenience,  his  supreme  solicitude  was  to  be 
at  his  post  as  Chairman,^  at  the  appointed  hour.  In 
the  same  spirit,  until  declining  health  rendered  it  im- 
possible,— besides  invariably  opening,  attending  three 
times,  and  teaching  in  the  Sunday  School, — he  was 


5 He  had  been  elected  in  1837. 


The  Good  Laymah. 


395 


i860] 

never  absent  from  a single  Service  in  his  own  parish 
Church ; nor  ever,  when  there,  failed  to  preside  at  the 
organ  thrice  every  Sunday  in  person. 

Such  words  are  soon  written,  sooner  read  ; but  the 
acts,  or  rather  the  habits  referred  to,  imply  a fixedness 
of  principle,  and  strength  of  moral  purpose,  rarely  wit- 
nessed. The  life  attracts  no  notice ; and  must  be  its  own 
reward,  or  must  go  unrewarded  entirely.  But  indeed 
there  never  was  a man  who  so  little  coveted  external 
applause  as  Charles  Longuet  Higgins.  He  ‘ dwelt  among 
his  own  people,’  and  found  his  chiefest  happiness  in 
promoting  theirs.  As  for  Church  music, — Psalmody  in 
all  its  branches, — it  was  his  supreme  delight.  He  never 
wearied  of  it.  The  plain  truth  is  that  he  accounted  the 
Services  of  the  sanctuary  his  very  crown  and  joy.  No 
toil  was  it  to  him  to  labour  in  such  a cause.  He 
“ esteemed  it  more  than  his  necessary  food.” 

Here,  it  deserves  to  be  recorded  that,  for  t 6 successive 
summers  [1862  to  1877],  the  Choirs  of  about  34  of  the 
neighbouring  villages  used  to  be  invited  to  meet  and 
hold  their  “Choral  Festival”  in  Turvey  Church;  after 
which,  they  were  hospitably  entertained  (with  the  Clergy 
and  a large  party  of  friends)  in  the  Abbey  grounds. 
Nothing  but  his  gradually  declining  health  at  last  con- 
strained him  (greatly  to  his  regret)  to  suffer  this  festive 
gathering  of  the  Choii’s  to  be  celebrated  elsewhere  than 
at  Turvey,  and  under  other  auspices  than  his  own.  But 
he  continued  to  the  last  to  be  its  guiding  and  informing 
spirit.  His  heart  was  in  the  movement  until  his  heart 
ceased  to  beat.  And  it  was  far  more  than  a strong 
social  bond  which,  in  this  way,  he  created  and  fostered. 
A mighty  instrument,  those  Choral  Festivals  proved,  for 
good.  The  Psalmody  of  the  whole  Diocese  thereby 


39^  Charles  Longuet  Higgins:  [1868 

acquired  a greatly  improved  tone  ; and  the  example  was 
taken  up  by  remote  outlying  parishes,  so  that  at  last  the 
movement  spread  into  the  adjoining  counties,  and  the 
extent  of  its  beneficent  influence  remains  unknown.  A 
friend,  (whose  name  is  by  this  time  familiar  to  the  reader,) 
accepting  an  invitation  to  Turvey  long  after,  writes, — 

“ Pleasant  to  me  it  will  be  to  renew  the  bright  recol- 
lections which  I cherish  of  a day  spent  at  Turvey  many 
years  ago.  It  was  a Choir  Festival, — a beautiful  day ; 
and  I well  remember  the  eager  happy  faces  of  the  vil- 
lagers from  all  the  Country  round  as  they  drove  or 
walked  into  the  village : the  thanksgiving  Service  in 

the  parish  Church, — and  then  the  royal  repast  which 
awaited  every  one  in  the  School-room.  It  was  one  of  those 
days  which  do  not  end  with  the  revolution  of  the  sun  ; 
but  live  on  in  the  memory,  and  of  which  one  says  long 
years  afterwards, — ‘ I am  glad  I was  there,  that  day ! ’ ” ® 

One  of  the  most  cherished  aspirations  of  my  brother’s 
later  years, — if  it  may  not  rather  be  declared  to  have 
been  the  darling  project  of  his  life, — was  to  be  instru- 
mental in  compiling  a Hymnal,  (a  Booh  of  Common  Praise^' 
he  called  it) ; — which,  as  he  fondly  hoped,  might  come 
to  be  regarded  as  a companion  to  the  Book  of  Common 
Prayer,  and  eventually  be  recommended  for  the  use  of 
the  whole  Anglican  Communion.  At  first,  he  limited  his 
hopes  to  the  Diocese  of  Ely,  and  to  the  production  of  a 
^Diocesan  Hymnal.’  At  the  solicitation  of  those  who 
were  favourable  to  the  project,  the  Bishop  (Dr.  Harold 
Browne)  proposed  for  consideration  in  1868  the  question, 
— “ Is  it  possible  and  desirable  to  obtain  greater  unifor- 
mity in  the  metrical  Psalms  and  Hymns  used  throughout 
the  Diocese^”  My  brother,  as  lay-representative  of  the 

® From  the  Kev.  E,  G.  Livingstone, — 12th  Sept.  1883. 


The  Good  Layman. 


397 


1868] 

Archdeaconry,  undertook  to  collect  the  opinions  of  the 
Clergy  on  the  subject.  “ As  an  experiment,  and  in  order 
to  assist  in  ascertaining  what  agreement  was  likely  to 
be  found  in  the  selection  of  Hymns  for  a general 
Hymnal,” — (at  the  suggestion  of  his  loved  neighbour, 
the  Rev.  W.  S.  Escott  of  Carlton,) — the  Clergy  of  the 
Western  half  of  the  Archdeaconry  were  invited, — (and 
13  of  their  number  accepted  the  invitation,) — to  select, 
independently  of  one  another,  100  Hymns.  The  result 
is  deserving  of  record.  The  aggregate  of  the  Hymns 
so  selected  was  636,  of  which,  strange  to  relate,  not  one 
enjoyed  the  suffrages  of  the  entire  body  : — 

1 Hymn,  however,  out  of  the  whole  Collection  {^Rock 

of  Ages  ’)  had  been  selected  by  12  of  their  number. 

2 (‘  Abide  with  me  ’ and  ‘ Hark^  the  herald  Angels 

sing  ’)  by  1 1 

5 How  sweet  the  Name^ — ‘Jesus,  lover  of  7ny 

souL — ‘ Lo^  He  comes,' — ‘ 0 Gob,  our  hel])^ — 

‘ Oft  m sorrow  ’)  by  10 

6 (‘  Come,  Holy  Spirit,  heavenly  Hove', — ‘ Glory  to 

Thee,  my  God,  this  night', — ‘Jesus  shall 
reign,' — ‘Jerusalem,  my  happy  home,' — ‘My 
Gob,  my  Lather,  while  I stray ^ ‘ Sun  of  my 
soul.  Thou  Sayioue  dear ')  by  9 


6 (‘ 

Christ,  the  Lord,  is  risen 

to-day!  — ' 

^ Fro7n 

Greenland' s 

icy  mountains! 

’ — ‘ Guide  me,  0 

Thou  great 

Jehovah! — ‘ 

Hark,  the 

glad 

sound! — ‘Just  as  I am! — ‘Nearer,  my  Gob,  to 

Thee')  

8 

10 

by 

7 

20 

by 

6 

17 

by 

5 

29 

by 

4 

46 

by 

3 

93 

by 

2 

401 

by 

T 

636 


398 


Charles  Longuet  Higgins:  [1871 


This  was  not  by  any  means  the  result  which  Charles 
had  anticipated  and  hoped  for,  but  it  did  not  discourage 
him.  (Nothing  ever  did.)  He  pointed  out  that  the  use 
of  a ’‘Diocesan  IlymmaV  would  be  permissive, — at  the 
most,  a thing  recommended  only : but  it  must  infallibly 
prove  an  important  step  towards  a Hymnal  for  the  use  of 
the  whole  of  the  English  branch  of  the  Church  Catholic, — 
“a  work  the  very  idea  of  compiling  which  fills  the  heart 
and  mind  with  humble  grateful  joy.”  He  urged  that 
just  as  “ the  greatest  blessings  have  resulted  to  the 
Church  from  a fixed  form  of  Prayer, — it  is  hard  to  see 
why  a fixed  form  of  Praise  should  not  be  advantageous 
also.”  He  urged  that  “ those  Christian  bodies  among  us 
who  are  unwilling  to  adopt  a form  of  Prayer, — Wesleyan, 
Independent,  Baptist,  Moravian, — have  with  the  greatest 
benefit  adopted  forms  of  sacred  song.  All  have  their 
Hymns.  Shall  we  of  the  Church  of  England,”  (he  asked), 
— “the  most  ancient,  the  most  pure,  the  most  widely 
extended  Church  of  all,” — shall  we  alone  be  without  one  ? 

It  was  a frequent  remark  of  his  that  every  period  of 
Revival  in  the  Church  has  been  attended  by  a great  out- 
burst of  sacred  minstrelsy.  With  this  he  introduced  the 
subject  of  Hlymnology^  in  an  excellent  paper  on  the 
subject  which  he  read  before  the  Church  Congress  of 
Nottingham,  in  1871  : — 

“ The  history  of  the  Church  in  all  ages  bears  testimony 
to  the  fact,  that  seasons  of  great  inward  renovation  and 
increase  of  spiritual  life  have  always  been  accompanied 
by  the  outward  manifestation  of  an  enlarged  Church 
Song.  Whenever,  after  a time  of  more  or  less  inactivity 
and  decay  of  energy,  it  has  pleased  the  Great  Head  of 
the  Church  to  send  a Divine  spark  to  lighten  up  once 
more  the  dying  embers,  and  heavenly  life  and  light 
quickens  again  the  Church’s  heart,  then  always  there 


The  Good  Layman. 


399 


1871] 

has  burst  forth  from  her  lips  words  of  humble,  hopeful, 
thankful  adoration.  The  harp  and  lute  have  taken  up 
the  strain : young  and  old  have  rejoiced  in  the  joyful 
sound ; and  the  song  has  ever  been,  ‘ O Loed,  open  Thou 
our  lips ; and  our  mouth  shall  shew  forth  Thy  praise.’  ” ^ 

This,  he  followed  up  with  an  admirable  appeal  to  the 
facts  of  history  in  connexion  with  Hymnology.  He  in- 
sisted that  our  Church  has  been  enriched,  ‘ especially  of 
late  years,  with  an  accession  of  sacred  compositions,  so 
humble  and  prayerful,  so  fervent  and  devotional,  so  ani- 
mating and  heavenly,  that  nothing  like  it  has  been  known 
in  the  history  of  former  days.  Why  then  ’ (he  asked) 
‘ are  not  these  precious  utterances  collected,  and,  in  a large 
and  Catholic  Spirit,  offered  to  the  service  of  the  Church  h ’ 
Interference  with  the  liberty  of  individual  Clergymen 
and  of  their  Congregations,  was  the  last  thing  he  contem- 
plated. He  did  but  wish  that  the  Book  might  enjoy 
Episcopal  Recommeyidation : its  use  would  nowhere  be 
urged  with  Episcopal  Authority. — “ ‘ But  have  we  not 
already  got  Hymns  Ancient  and  Modern  ” ? (some  will  ask), 
‘ of  which  200,000  copies  have  been  circulated.  May  we 
not  be  contented  with  that  ? ’ The  Collection  referred  to 
has  done  much  ” (he  replied)  “ to  supply  a need  generally 
felt.  But  whilst  such  hymns  as  the  following  have 
found  no  place  in  that  Collection,  it  can  hardly  be  said  to 
be  all  that  is  wanted  ” : — and  he  proceeded  to  specify  28 
hymns  which  are  not  included  in  the  Hymnal  referred  to, 
but  which  (in  his  judgment)  the  Church  can  ill  afford  to 
be  without.^  It  is  a pleasure  to  transcribe  the  beautiful 
peroration  of  the  same  paper  : — 

“ What  a bond  of  union  would  such  a work  be ! 

Hymnology,  a paper  read  he-  ® From  his  ‘ Report  to  the  Ruri- 
fore  the  Church  Congress  at  Not-  decanal  Meeting,  April  30,  1868,’ 
tingham, — 1871 ; p.  3,  — MS. 


400  Charles  Lonquet  Higgins:  [1871 

Who  can  estimate  its  holy,  heavenly  influence  1 The 
poor  people  love  their  Hymn-book,  and  love  hymns 
too.  We  all  do  so.  Our  mothers  taught  them  to  us 
when  we  were  children  and  stood  beside  theni,  or  sat 
upon  their  knee.  The  sweet  words  are  mingled  in 
our  minds  with  tender  looks,  and  reverend  gray  hairs, 
it  may  be  also  with  loving  tears,  when  we  repeated 
our  task  correctly.  Ah  ! those  dear  forms  are  perhaps 
laid  in  the  grave,  but  there  arise  memories  which 
burn  and  swell  in  our  hearts,  and  will  do  so  till  they 
too  shall  cease  to  beat,  and  shall  throb  no  longer.  A 
book  such  as  this  will  unite  in  a better  than  earthly 
relationship  fathers  and  mothers  in  Nottingham  and 
Lincoln,  with  sons  and  daughters  in  New  Zealand  and 
California.  The  bond  of  Christian  Churchmanship  will 
be  strengthened,  and  the  Divine  Master,  who  will  have 
all  His  people  one  in  Him,  will  be  honoured  and 
glorified. 

“ O happy,  blessed  work  ! Happy  are  some  of  you, 
sirs,  who  are  engaged  therein.  May  heavenly  wisdom 
guide  you  ! Thousands  ‘ wish  you  good  luck  in  the 
name  of  the  Lokd  ’ : and  pray,  that  in  due  time  our 
branch  of  the  Church  Catholic  may  possess  a Book  of 
Common  Praise,  which  shall  be  a not  unworthy  counter- 
part to  her  Book  of  Common  Prayer : a book  which 
shall  be  a joy  for  ever  to  the  Church  on  earth,  and 
whose  deep,  wide  spirit  of  humble  yet  loving  adoration, 
may  enable  many  a poor  weary  heart  to  reach  even 
to  Heaven.”  ^ 

I have  been  induced  to  devote  what  may  seem 
disproportionate  space  to  my  Brother’s  scheme  for  a 
“Book  of  Common  Praise,”  not  only  because  ‘Hymno- 
logy  ’ in  all  its  forms  held  so  prominent  a place  in  his 
regard, — (it  was  in  fact  for  a long  time  uppermost  in  his 
thoughts), — but  because  of  the  essential  interest  and 
importance  of  the  subject.  I believe  moreover  that  his 


® See  above,  note  (7)  : pp.  14,  15. 


The  Good  Layman. 


401 


1855] 

earnestness  in  the  cause  would  have  been  rewarded  with 
the  success  it  deserved,  but  for  commercial  interests. 
Rival  Hymnals^  to  speak  plainly,  caused  that  the  project 
met  with  no  encouragement  in  influential  quarters : and 
it  was  emphatically  one  of  those  endeavours  which  must 
depend  for  success  entirely  on  the  amount  of  enthusiasm 
with  which  they  are  publicly  received  and  privately 
promoted.  All  honour  to  the  lawful  pursuits  of  Trade ! 
We  are  indebted  to  them  for  no  inconsiderable  portion 
of  our  national  greatness.  But  commercial  considera- 
tions become  contemptible  indeed  when  they  are  dis- 
covered to  have  been  the  cause  why  “ an  inferior  article  ” 
is  thrust  on  the  Church’s  reluctant  acceptance, — or  a 
precious  possession  kept  out  of  her  eager  grasp : words, 
which  are  intended  to  be  (pcovavra  o-vv^tolctlv. 

At  the  beginning  of  the  present  Memoir,  mention  was 
made  of  my  Brother’s  noble  resolve  from  very  early 
youth,  to  found  a Theological  Library  for  the  use  of 
the  Archdeaconry  (i.e.  the  County)  of  Bedford.  Deeply 
impressed  with  the  need  to  the  Church  of  a learned 
Clergy,  he  was  also  profoundly  well  aware  that  the 
narrow  income  of  by  far  the  larger  number  puts  an 
absolute  bar  in  the  way  of  their  becoming  possessed  of 
many  books.  It  was  his  enlightened  project,  therefore, 
to  minister  to  this  want  in  this  particular  way : and  the 
same  aspiration  it  was  which  gave  zest  to  his  acquisi- 
tion, through  a long  course  of  years,  of  a valuable 
Theological  Library.  He  had  begun  by  collecting  the 
works  of  the  Puritan  Divines, — with  whose  writings  his 
shelves  are  peculiarly  well  furnished  ; the  natural  re- 
sult, it  is  obvious  to  point  out,  of  his  own  early  intimacy 
with  Legh  Bichmond  and  other  teachers  of  the  same 
school  But  his  mind  grew  in  Catholicity  as  his  judg- 

VOL.  II.  D d 


402  Charles  Longue t Higgins:  [1855 

ment  ripened.  He  acquainted  himself  to  some  extent 
with  Patristic  Divinity,  and  the  result  might  have  been 
anticipated.  In  him  was  strikingly  fulfilled  that 
saying, — “No  man  having  drunk  old  wine  straightway 
desireth  new  : for  he  saith.  The  old  is  better.”  ^ Before 
he  was  fifty,  he  had  become  possessed  of  a grand 
collection  of  the  Fathers. 

It  deserves  record  that  this  was  the  sole  instance  in 
which  Charles  was  known  to  abandon  a project  on  which 
he  had  once  greatly  set  his  heart.  The  lesson  was  very 
rudely  taught  him,  that  such  an  endeavour  must  inevit- 
ably prove  an  utter  failure  ; and  so  taught,  he  was  not 
slow  to  realize  the  painful  fact.  Once  convinced  of  what 
would  be  the  dreary  fate  of  his  books,  he  abandoned 
his  beneficent  intention  at  once.  But  it  remains  true, 
for  all  that  so  noble  a project  deserved  a very  dif- 
ferent fate  ; and  although  it  eventually  came  to  nothing, 
I am  unwilling  that  what  certainly  would  have  been 
accomplished,  but  for  the  discouragement  of  those  for 
whose  advantage  the  library  was  chiefly  designed,  should 
pass  out  of  men’s  remembrance  unrecorded. 

His  Library  was  indeed  a remarkable  one.  It  contained 
flne  copies  of  the  best  edition  of  every  Greek  and  Latin 
Father, — besides  a splendid  specimen  of  Brian  Walton’s 
Lolyglott^  the  Bibliotheca  of  Gallandius,  and  other  similar 
collections.  It  was  one  of  his  abiding  regrets  that  early 
in  life  he  had  missed  an  opportunity  of  acquiring  a copy 
of  ‘the  Complutensian ’ Bible.  But  by  far  the  most 
valuable  objects  in  his  library  were  certain  rare  early 
printed  tomes, — as,  the  Sarum  'Missal’  (Paris  1555)? — 
Wynkyn  de  Worde’s  'Vitas  Batmm’  (1495),  perfect  and 


^ S.  Luke  V.  39. 


The  Good  Layman. 


403 


1855] 

in  beautiful  condition  ; — his  ‘ Pilgrimage  of  Perfection  ’ 
(i53i): — ' Le  Livre  PoijaV  (Caxton,  1484),  perfect  and 
excellently  preserved: — ^Pives  et  PaujpeP  (Pynson,  1493), 
— in  very  fine  condition.  He  had  besides  a copy  of  Cran- 
mer’s  ‘ Catecliumus’  (1548) ; together  with  his  ^Defence  of 
the  true  and  Catholic  Poctrine  of  the  Sacrament^  (1550): — 
Tyndale’s  ‘ Practice  of  Prelates',  (Marborch  1530,  first 
ed.): — K.  Henry  VHIth’s  ‘ Necessary  Poctr hie  and  Erudition 
for  any  Christen  Man^  (1543): — Walter  Hylton’s  ^ 8c ala 
Perfectionis' — (Wynkyn  de  Worde,  1533) : — Melancthon’s 
‘ Very  godly  defence  of  the  marriage  of  gwiests',  (1541): — 
Luther’s  ‘ Chief  and  principal  Articles  of  the  Christian  Faith', 
(1548): — Duke  of  Somerset’s  ^ A Spiritual  and  most  precious 
pearl',  (1550); — several  of  Bp.  Hooper’s  pieces,^  and 
other  like  rarities.  Scarcely  less  than  any  of  the  fore- 
going did  C.  L.  H.  prize  a copy  of  the  1st  edition  of 
Scott’s  ^ Force  of  Truth',  (1779), — the  gift  of  his  Grand- 
father to  his  Father,  when  a boy  of  14.^ 

The  greatest  curiosity  which  he  possessed  was  Cran- 
mer’s  copy  of  K.  Henry  Vlllth’s  ^ Assertio  Septem  Sacramen- 
torum'  against  Luther,  (small  4to,  Pynson,  1521), — the 
work  which  won  for  its  Royal  author  (from  Pope  Leo  X) 
the  title  of  ‘Defender  of  the  Faith.’  This  copy,  (on  large 
paper,  and  in  the  original  interesting  binding),  was  pre- 
sented by  the  king  to  the  Archbishop,  whose  autograph 
(‘  Thomas  Cantuarierif  is  on  the  title-page.  Cranmer 
has  also  written  a few  brief  annotations  in  the  margin 
of  this  book,  of  which  I will  cite  the  two  of  most  interest. 
At  p.  33,  against  the  words, — '^Christus  ....  docere  non 

^ Viz.  Hooper’s  ‘Declaration  of  xxiii,  Ixii,  Ixxiii,  Ixxvii,’  (1580): — 
Christ  and  of  His  ofice, Cl  : — lastly  his  ‘Answer  to  Gardiner' 
his  little  volume  ‘on  the  Ten  Com-  (Zurich,  1547),  with  Sir  Rob.  Cot- 
mandments,'  (1548): — ‘on  Jonah,’  ton’s  autograph, — being  the  rarest 
(1550): — his  ‘Exposition  on  the  of  Hooper’s  pieces. 
xxiiird Psalm, ’{1^62)-. — ‘on  Psalms  ^ See  above,  pp.  345,  357. 

D d 2 


404  Charles  Longuet  Higgins:  [1855 

dubitavit  panis  vinique  non  amplius  restare  substantiam, 
sed  manente  utri  usque  specie,  utrumque  tamen,  et  panem 
et  vinum,  in  corpus  et  sanguinem  suum  esse  conversmn.'' 
— Cranmer  (having  underlined  the  last  word)  writes, — 

Lesideramiis  id  ex  Scripturisy  Also,  (at  p.  35),  against 
the  words, — “ modo  credat  panem  sic  esse  conversmn  in  carnem, 
et  vinum  in  saiiguinem^  ut  7iihil  7ieque  panis  rema7ieat  neque 
vini  pjfaeter  specmn^  quod  iqjsum  uno  verbo  volunt  quicimque 
po7iU7it  traimihstantiationeml'  (every  one  of  which  words  he 
underlines  with  his  pen), — Cranmer  writes  in  the  margin, 
— “ Ubi  vei'bum  Dei  quod  Jidem  faciat  hujus  7'ei  ? . After 

the  Archbishop’s  martyrdom,  this  precious  relic  became 
the  property  of  J ohn,  last  Lord  Lumley,  whose  autograph 
is  also  seen  on  the  title-page.^- 

I will  only  mention  besides,  among  his  biblical 
curiosities,  a copy  of  the  ’'JSe7v  Testa7nent'  of  1550?  with 
Bp.  Hall’s  autograph  : ‘ For  my  Lord  Halifax^  fi'om  his  most 
faithful  affectionate  seiK  J.  Norwich!  Also, — (his  latest 

acquisition !) — a superb  copy  of  that  rarest  of  folios, 
Halstead’s  ‘ Succmct  Ge7iealogies,'  from  which  an  interest- 
ing extract  has  been  already  offered.^  This  volume, 
which  came  from  Lord  Gosford’s  library,  is  one  of  two 
copies  which  were  formerly  at  Drayton.  Only  20  copies 
of  the  work  were  printed. 

Another  favourite  scheme  of  his, — though  it  stood  on 
a very  different  level, — was  the  formation  of  Hocal 
Museums!  His  views  on  the  subject  he  set  forth  very 

* From  his  library  it  passed  into  Turvey  [1669-1699]),  compiled  it 
the  hands  of  Herbert,  the  editor  of  for  his  patron  under  the  assumed 
Ames, — who  mentions  it  at  p.  122.  name  of  “Robert  Halstead.”  See 

‘ J.  Bindley  (1799)’  was  the  last  Harvey’s  ^ Hist,  and  Antiq.  of 

known  possessor  of  the  volume.  Willey  Hundred,' — pp.  220,  199, 

® See  above,  pp.  388-9  (woi^e).  Its  215.  The  same  work  is  quoted 

author,  Richard  Rands,  (Rector  of  above,  pp.  149-50. 


1855]  The  Good  Layman.  405 

interestingly  in  a paper  which  was  read  at  the  Annual 
meeting  of  the  ‘ Bedfordshire  Architectural  a?id  ArchrBologicat 
Society ' 2ist,  1865.  It  well  merits  attention, 
being  written  in  a spirit  truly  large  and  scientific, — • 
while  yet  the  writer’s  requirements  are  simple  and  easy 
of  achievement  in  a high  degree.  In  their  results,  such 
Institutions  could  not  fail  to  prove  in  the  best  sense 
beneficial.  Briefly, — Without  unduly  depreciating  the 
popular  notion  of  a ‘ Museum,'  viz.  a repository  of  miscel- 
laneous curiosities, — objects  of  whatever  description,  so 
that  they  be  but  rare  and  curious, — what  he  advocated 
in  country  Towns  and  Villages,  was,  that  samples  should 
rather  be  exhibited  of  the  productions,  natural  or  arti- 
ficial, of  the  immediate  neighbourhood, — suppose,  within 
a radius  of  5 or  6 miles.  The  Geology  and  Mineralogy 
of  the  surrounding  district  would  supply  one  large  and 
interesting  set  of  specimens  : — the  Botany  would  supply 
another.  Land  and  water  shells, — insects, — objects  of 
antiquarian  interest  as  they  occasionally  came  to  light, 
local  records  of  whatever  kind, — all  would  find  a home 
and  a welcome  in  the  repository  which  Charles  con- 
templated : the  essential  feature  of  his  scheme  being  that 
the  specimens  and  articles  exhibited  should  all  be  the 
product  of  the  actual  locality, — things  found  in,  or  specially 
belonging  to,  the  immediate  district.  A single  room  in  a 
very  small  house, — the  remainder  of  which  (such  as  it  was) 
might  be  occupied  by  some  poor  woman  as  a compen- 
sation for  her  trouble  in  looking  after  the  specimens, — 
would  provide  a fully  sufiicient  locus  for  the  proposed 
institution : of  which,  in  his  view,  the  main  object 
would  be  “ to  instil,  foster,  and  develop  in  the  minds  of 
all  classes  of  the  people  an  interest  in  the  common 
objects  of  Nature.”  He  cherished  the  pious  hope  that 
the  habitual  contemplation  of  such  objects  must  inevit- 


4o6  Charles  Longuet  Higgins:  [1857 

ably  lead  men  up  from  the  study  of  Nature  to  the 
adoration  of  Nature’s  God.  And  surely  he  was  right  in 
seeking  thus  to  humanize  the  humbler  class  ; to  impart  a 
measure  of  interest  to  the  unavoidably  uneventful  and 
monotonous  existence  of  the  labouring  poor.  ‘ The 
Museum  ’ at  Turve}^  has  been  spoken  of  akeady. 

During  the  long  evenings  of  more  than  one  winter,  a 
favourite  resource  with  my  Brother  was  the  study  of 
English  History  as  it  is  exhibited  in  the  pages  of  our  old 
Chroniclers.  Undeniable  it  is  that  whatever  want  of  per- 
spective there  may  be  in  such  compilations,  the  defect  is 
compensated  for  by  the  human  interest  of  the  narratives. 
Commend  us  to  the  old  Chroniclers  for  graphic  details, 
and  for  skill  in  combining  with  historical  knowledge  a 
vast  amount  of  living  entertainment.  In  this  way  Charles 
was  led  to  write  a series  of  village  Lectures  on  English 
History,  twenty-nine  in  all,  which  he  seems  to  have 
read  before  his  village  audience  in  1857.  Of  these,  six 
were  devoted  to  the  Plantagenet  period,  and  no  less  than 
twenty-two  to  the  House  of  Tudor : viz.  to  Henry  VIII 
— four:  to  Edw.  VI — two:  to  Queen  Mary — four:  to 
Q.  Elizabeth — twelve.  They  were  delivered  not  only  in 
Turvey,  but  in  the  neighbourhood, — as  at  Northampton, 
Newport  Pagnell,  Wellingborough,  Poddington ; for  he 
gladly  complied  with  the  petition  of  some  of  the  more 
distant  Clergy  that  he  would  come  over,  and  instruct 
their  people.  I often  urged  him  to  publish  some  of 
these  lectures,  but  he  shrank  from  the  proposal  with 
genuine  modesty, — remarking  that  one  and  all  had  been 
written  without  the  remotest  thought  of  the  possibility 
of  future  publication.  I am  sure  that  some  such  method 
is  the  best  that  can  be  devised  for  acquainting  the  brother 
of  low  degree  with  the  history  of  a glorious  country  which 


1858]  The  Good  Layman.  407 

has  grown  into  the  mightiest  of  Empires  ; and  whose 
future  destinies  are  becomiug,  by  the  progress  of  recent 
legislation,  more  and  more  sensibly  brought  within  the 
influence  of  the  masses. 

It  was  especially  for  the  gratification  of  such  auditories 
that  he  wrote  two  Lectures  on  his  visit  to  Sinai  and 
Palestine,  which  he  made  attractive  by  means  of  the 
magic-lantern.  His  practice  was  to  illustrate  all  his 
subjects,  whether  Historical  or  Scientific,  in  this  way : 
having  caused  to  be  prepared  above  500  beautifully 
painted  slides,  — some  representing  natural  scenery ; 
some,  historical  events  ; some,  famous  personages  ; some, 
the  planetary  bodies. 

I have  said  little  about  my  Brother’s  scientific  attain- 
ments: but  indeed  there  was  scarcely  any  branch  of 
physical  Science  which  he  had  not  cultivated.  He 
furnished  himself  in  early  life  with  splendid  telescopes, 
and  sufficiently  mastered  the  phenomena  of  the  Heavens 
to  be  able  to  make  the  elements  of  Astronomy  interest- 
ing to  the  humblest  of  audiences.  In  anticipation 
of  the  annular  eclipse  of  the  sun  which  occurred  on 
Monday,  March  15th,  1858,  he  delivered  an  admirable 
village  Address, — explanatory  of  the  phenomenon  and 
guiding  the  villagers’  minds  up  to  its  only  source,  the 
one  Author  of  Law.  Two  Lectures  on  the  Solar  system 
(1854),  and  other  two  on  Mechanics  (1856),  were  highly 
popular, — the  latter  being  fully  appreciated  by  the  village 
artizans.  When  he  entertained  friends  at  the  Abbey, 
he  loved  to  produce  his  superb  microscope,  and  before 
a select  few  to  descant  on  the  wonders  of  Creation.  He 
was  never  more  interesting  than  on  such  occasions. 

It  will  be  perceived  that  it  was  to  the  Beformation 


4o8  Charles  Longuet  Higgins:  [1858 

period  of  our  history  that  he  chiefly  directed  his  atten- 
tion. It  engaged  his  profoundest  sympathy.  I find  an 
occasional  Lecture  of  his,  delivered  17th  November,  1858, 
which  begins  as  follows : — 

“ It  was  on  this  day,  three  hundred  years  ago,  that  the 
Judge  of  Heaven  and  Earth  called  to  her  account  one  of 
the  greatest  scourges  the  Church  had  ever  known.  I am 
anxious  that  this,  the  300th  anniversary  of  the  death  of 
Queen  Mary, — which  is  also  the  300th  anniversary  of 
the  day  on  which  Queen  Elizabeth  began  her  reign, — 
should  not  pass  without  a few  words  which,  if  it  please 
God,  may  excite  in  our  hearts  a grateful  remembrance  of 
His  mercy  in  delivering  His  people  from  the  fiery  trial 
which  then  oppressed  them  ; and  of  His  great  goodness  in 
raising  up  a Queen  in  whose  days  the  Church,  estab- 
lished in  England  almost  from  the  times  of  the  Apostles, 
was  reformed,  renewed,  settled.” 

During  the  winter  of  1857,  he  delivered  to  his  village 
auditory  twenty  Lectures  on  the  Reformation.  I find 
also  a lecture  of  his  entitled  Passages  from  the  life  of  Car- 
dinal WolseyT  It  is  full  of  pathos  and  tender  interest. 

Another  of  his  occasional  Addresses,  entitled  an  Ac- 
count of  Purvey  f written  so  late  as  1881,  is  an  endeavour 
to  awaken  in  the  breasts  of  the  villagers  an  intelligent 
regard  for  the  localit}^  assigned  to  them  by  God’s  good 
Providence  ; — an  appreciation  (so  to  express  oneself),  of 
its  place  in  history ; — a recognition  of  its  features  of 
interest.  A capital  specimen  it  is  of  what  anywhere 
mighty — and  what  everywhere  should^ — be  done  for  those 
who,  through  no  fault  of  their  own,  cannot  possibly  do 
it  for  themselves. 

If  I were  required  to  lay  my  finger  on  the  best  of  this 
dear  friend’s  productions  of  this  class,  I should  point  to 
the  ‘ Address  ’ which  he  delivered  ‘ to  the  members  of  the 


The  Good  Layman. 


409 


1879] 

Sunday  School  Conference  at  Bedford,’  in  1879:®  its 
subject, — ^The  necessity  of  definite  Clmrcli  Teaching  in  our 
Sunday  Schools.’  It  begins: — 

“ That  tendency  of  modern  thought  which  is  far  too 
much  in  the  direction  of  Man’s  natural  inclination,  and 
which  leads  to  ‘Liberalism  ’ and  thence  by  easy  degrees  to 
Scepticism  and  Infidelity,  has  so  secularised  Education 
that  we  are  in  danger  of  forgetting  those  great  principles 
which  used  to  underlie  all  the  teaching  of  former  days. 
It  was  once  the  acknowledged  duty  of  a Christian  State 
to  see  that  its  people  were  brought  up  in  the  fear  of  God, 
as  well  as  in  dutiful  allegiance  to  the  King : but  now,  an 
unholy  pandering  to  popularity,  urged  on  by  the  discon- 
tent and  jealousy  of  those  who  hate  the  leading  and  the 
teaching  of  the  Church  to  which  it  is  our  great  honour 
and  joy  to  belong,  has  so  wrought,  that  forsooth  the 
adding  up  correctly  the  prices  of  a few  yards  of  calico  or 
of  so  many  ounces  of  tobacco  and  snuff  is  considered 
sufficient  to  justify  an  expensive  machinery  to  insure 
accuracy ; whilst  the  knowledge  of  God,  and  of  the 
great  and  eternal  verities  which  lie  between  Heaven  and 
Earth,  are  left  (so  far  as  the  State  is  concerned)  to  abso- 
lute chance  and  uncertainty.” 

The  nature  of  this  admirable  production  may  be 
gathered  from  the  summary  of  its  Contents  prefixed:  viz. 

‘ The  popular  system  of  Teaching  condemned. — The 
Church,  the  Divinely-appointed  Teacher  of  the  People. 
— Actual  results  of  Sunday-School  Teaching,  unsatis- 
factory.— The  Remedy  proposed,  viz.  More  definite 
Church  Teaching  ; — both  Doctrinal,  and  Historical. — 
God’s  care  for  His  Church  inferred  from  His  care  for  the 
least  of  His  creatures. — Outlines  of  Sacred  Truth. — 
Religious  Teaching  to  be  made  a pleasant  thing: — the 
Sunday  Walk. — Parting  words  of  Encouragement.’ 

As  before,  I am  tempted  to  transcribe  the  last  page  of 

® The  prefatory  notice  is  dated  especially  to  those  who  shall  here- 
‘ September.’  The  Dedication  is  ‘ To  after  teach  in  the  Sunday  School 
all  Teachers  in  Sunday  Schools : of  Turney' 


410  Charles  Longuet  Higgins:  [1880 

his  eloquent  Address.  But  indeed  every  one  of  those  16 
little  pages  is  instinct  with  genuine  piety,  true  wisdom, 
Christian  faithfulness : — 

O look  upwards,  my  friends, — Reverend  Fathers,  lay 
Brethren,  dear  Mothers  and  Sisters  in  Cheist, — whose 
especial  duty  and  privilege  it  is  to  train  the  young  for 
Heaven ! Be  not  discouraged.  ‘ Look  on  the  fields : 
they  are  white  already  to  Harvest.’  Better  days  are 
before  us.  Pray  for  grace  that  you  may  yourselves  love, 
and  live  for,  and  cling  to,  Christ’s  Holy  Catholic 
Church  ; and  then  teach,  in  humble  dependence  upon  a 
better  teaching  still,  those  committed  to  your  care  to 
walk  in  the  same  paths,  to  follow  on  in  the  good  old 
ways.  Look  upwards  with  humble  confidence  ; for 
Jerusalem,  the  symbol  of  the  Church,  opens  wide  her 
portals  to  receive  her  children,  and  will  afford  them 
refuge,  for  He  reigns  there  who  is  our  hope,  and  strength, 
and  life.  Take  courage  then  ; for,  through  your  loving 
care,  thousands  of  young  ones  shall  arise  and  rejoice  in 
her ; and  tens  of  thousands  shall  yet  ‘ call  her  walls 
Salvation,  and  her  gates  Praise.’  ” 


It  is  time  to  draw  these  memorials  of  the  life  of  a 
pattern  Layman  to  a close.  How  much  respect  and 
regard  he  inspired  in  all  who  came  within  the  sphere  of 
his  personal  influence : how  wise  and  moderate  he  showed 
himself  in  counsel:  how  large-hearted  and  how  high- 
minded, — how  open-handed,  too,  when  the  time  came  for 
giving ; — all  this  has  been  dwelt  upon  by  many.  His 
urbanity  and  dignity,  not  to  say  the  Christian  courtesy 
and  kindness  which  characterized  his  every  word  and 
action,  impressed  all  who  came  in  his  way.  He  lived 
(as  well  he  might)  in  the  hearts  of  his  villagers  and  of 
his  neighbours.  But  the  attraction  of  his  consistently 
virtuous  course  and  lofty  example  of  usefulness  through- 
out more  than  three-quarters  of  a century  of  years. 


i88o] 


The  Good  Layman. 


411 

extended  far  beyond  the  immediate  vicinity  of  his  home. 
There  probably  does  not  breathe  in  the  county  of  Bed- 
ford a man  who,  when  he  quits  the  scene,  will  be  followed 
to  the  grave  with  livelier  regret,  and  words  of  more 
hearty  commendation  from  all, — from  the  highest  to  the 
lowest. 

I never  knew  one  more  large-hearted  than  he  was. 
Firm  as  a rock  in  his  devoted  adherence  to  the  Church 
of  his  Baptism,  and  stiffly  Conservative  in  his  political 
opinions,  he  was  truly  liberal  in  making  allowance  for 
the  convictions  of  others.  The  Independent  Minister 
freely  resorted  to  him,  when  in  difflculties  with  his  con- 
gregation : and  such  occasions  were  neither  trivial  nor 
infrequent.  One  Minister  there  was  of  that  denomina- 
tion at  Turvey, — his  name,  Bichard  Cecil, — who,  during 
a period  of  great  bodily  and  mental  distress,  eagerly 
availed  himself  of  my  Brother’s  spiritual  ministrations 
when  able  to  endure  the  presence  of  no  one  else.  Charles 
had  a sincere  respect  and  regard  for  this  man, — who 
was  simply  worried  out  of  the  place,  and  reduced  to 
dire  extremity  by  (what  he  called)  ‘ his  flock.’  He  was 
really  a very  superior  person.  In  order  to  supplement 
his  scanty  income,  having  a large  family  to  provide  for, 
he  prepared  young  men  to  become  Independent  Ministers. 
David  Livingstone  Missionary ^ Traveller^  PInla?ithropist,' 
as  he  is  described  on  his  gravestone  in  Westminster 
Abbey,)  was  one  of  these.  “ Then  you  must  have  known 
Livingstone?” — I once  inquired.  “To  be  sure,  I did,” 
was  the  reply : “ and  have  many  a time  bowled  him  out 
at  cricket.” — On  the  other  hand,  the  Romish  priest  at 
Weston  Underwood  received  from  Charles  a yearly 
recognition  that  he  was  his  nemhbour.  He  lived  on 

o o 

the  pleasantest  terms  with  those  whose  predilections, 


412  Charles  Longuet  Higgins:  [1880 

political  as  well  as  religious,  were  entirely  opposed  to 
his  own. 

And  here  I am  bound  to  mention  that  although  this 
dear  Brother  freely  acknowledged  the  superiority  of  that 
Catholic  system  of  teaching  to  which  he  had  become 
introduced  at  comparatively  an  advanced  period  of  his 
life,  never  to  the  last  did  he  seek  to  divest  himself  of  the 
religious  prepossessions  of  his  youth  and  early  manhood. 
His  favourite  devotional  Manuals  were  those  of  the 
school  of  Leighton.  Of  Charles  Simeon  he  always 
spoke  with  enthusiasm.  He  never  went  to  rest  (he  once 
told  me)  without  reading  a page  or  two  of  the  ‘ Filgrim!s 
Progress.'  The  ‘ Imitation  ’ of  Thomas-a-Kempis, — Law’s 
‘ Serious  Call' — Scott’s  ‘ Force  of  Truth',  were  always  on 
the  table  of  his  dressing-room.  And  yet,  I remember 
his  telling  me  that  he  had  studied  the  ‘ Spiritual  Exer- 
cises ’ of  Ignatius  Loyola,  and  had  been  deeply  affected 
by  them.  He  found  edification  and  comfort  in  the  pro- 
ductions of  widely  different  schools  of  religious  teaching. 

His  soul  was  keenly  alive  to  “ whatsoever  things  are 
true,  whatsoever  things  are  pure,  whatsoever  things  are 
lovely,  whatsoever  things  are  of  good  report.”  He 
would  kindle  in  a moment  with  rapturous  emotion,  at 
the  record  of  any  trait  of  heroic  self-sacrifice, — any  bold, 
any  unearthly  venture  of  faith : and  would  be  as  suddenly 
surprised  into  tears.  He  was  enthusiastic  to  the  last  for 
God  and  for  His  Truth.  Never  can  1 forget  the  emotion 
with  which  he  pronounced  (for  the  first  time  in  my 
hearing)  that  grand  passage  in  Hooker’s  ist  Book  (c.  ii. 
2),  beginning, — “ Dangerous  it  were  for  the  feeble  brain 
of  Man  to  wade  far  into  the  doings  of  the  Most  High.” 
The  words, — “ Whom,  although  to  know  be  life,  and  joy 
to  make  mention  of  His  Name,”  he  delivered  as  one  who 


i88o]  The  Good  Layman,  413 

knew  by  a blessed  personal  experience  the  sweetness  of 
the  thing  discoursed  of. 

It  cannot,  in  conclusion,  be  too  plainly  declared  that 
those  only  who  knew  him  most  intimately, — knew  him 
as  he  was  invariably  to  be  seen  amid  the  sanctities  of 
his  home, — can  be  aware  what  a very  good,  what  a very 
holy  man  he  was.  Always  equable  in  his  temper,  ever 
calm,  and  kind,  and  self-possessed,  nothing  ever  seemed 
to  ruffle  him.  There  never  fell  from  his  lips  a harsh,  or 
uncharitable,  or  angry  word.  The  serenity  of  his  dis- 
position was  extraordinary.  I never  remember  to  have 
seen  him  in  a hurry : or  flurried : or  late  for  an  engage- 
ment. He  gave  to  every  duty  its  rightful  place : allowed 
to  every  work  its  necessary  time.  The  regulation  of  his 
private  daily  life  seemed  to  be  an  integral  part  of  his 
Religion.  Piety  with  him  was  not  a thing  put  on  and 
put  off, — an  act,  belonging  to  certain  times  and  certain 
places.  It  was  the  abiding  habit  and  condition  of  his 
soul. 

The  more  I dwell  in  memory  on  the  subject  of  these 
pages,  the  more  impressed  I am  with  the  beauty  of  the 
character  I have  been  endeavouring  to  pourtray.  It  was 
a life  of  consistent  goodness  from  its  dawn  to  its  close  : 
but  the  evening  of  his  days  was  lovelier  even  than  life’s 
commencement.  Not  that  there  remain  any  incidents  to 
be  recorded  of  a sort  to  exhibit  character.  What  chiefly 
struck  those  who  lived  under  the  same  roof  with  him, — 
especially  those  who  had  known  him  in  the  fulness  of 
his  strength, — was  his  more  than  acquiescence  in  the 
altered  condition  of  his  being.  Painful  as  it  was  to  me, 
who  could  remember  him  like  a youthful  Hercules,  now 
to  see  him  leaning  on  his  stick, — walking  with  a totter- 
ing step, — glad  of  the  support  of  his  wife’s  arm; — to 


41 4 Charles  Longuet  Higgins:  [1880 

him  it  seemed  nothing  else  but  a wise,  and  holy,  and 
merciful  dispensation  ; a thing  to  be  as  thankful  for,  as 
the  sense  of  being  ‘ lusty  and  strong.’  Not  without  effort 
was  he  able  latterly  to  rise  from  his  knees  after  Family 
Prayer.  Once,  while  offering  him  a little  assistance,  I 
could  not  suppress  the  ejaculation  that  ‘ it  had  not  been 
always  so  with  him.’  Looking  fixedly  at  me,  (for  he 
had  not  yet  risen  from  his  knees,)  he  rejoined  with  some 
earnestness, — “ No,  nor  do  I wish  that  it  were  otherwise.” 
In  a little  frame,  suspended  over  the  fire-place  in  his 
study,  is  to  be  seen,  written  with  his  own  hand : — 

LET  COME  WHAT  WILL  COME, 
god’s  will  is  WELCOME. 

Words  which,  I am  sure,  had  long  been  the  very  motto 
of  his  heart.  It  was  evidently  the  fixed  conviction  of 
his  soul  that  whatever  God  wills  to  be,  is  the  very 
best  thing  that  possibly  can  be : and  so,  to  conform  his 
own  will  to  God’s  will,  seemed  not  so  much  the  purpose 
of  his  life  as  the  instinct  of  his  spirit.  Many,  and  often 
repeated,  acts  of  submission  had  at  last  resulted  in  a 
change  of  nature.  Even  the  weather  was  always  (ac- 
cording to  him)  the  very  best  possible.  On  coming 
down  in  the  morning,  scarcely  ever  did  he  enter  the 
library  where  he  found  me  sitting,  without — (after  the 
customary  salutations) — giving  utterance  to  some  in- 
teresting remark  suggested  by  the  scene  which,  as  he 
entered,  met  his  view.  The  clear  or  the  lowering  aspect 
of  the  heavens, — the  rain  which  was  falling  or  had  fallen 
during  the  night, — the  dewy  upland,  or  the  rimy  grass, 
or  the  brightening  landscape, — no  matter  what  it  was, 
he  had  always  something  eucharistic  to  say  about  it. 
He  had  been  estimating  how  many  tons  of  moisture 
must  have  descended  to  the  earth  during  the  hours  of 


i88o] 


The  Good  Layman. 


415 


darkness,  and  speculating  on  the  beneficent  result ; or, 
in  time  of  harvest,  had  delighted  himself  with  reckoning 
the  gain  to  the  country  of  another  day’s  sunshine  like 
the  last.  It  was  as  if  he  always  opened  his  eyes  with  a 
^ Benedicite  omnia  ojjera!  Sincerely  did  he  praise  and 
admire  the  weather  even  when  it  crossed  some  cherished 
plan  of  his  own.  I recall  a certain  occasion,  when — his  hay 
having  already  suffered  grievously — a Sunday  supervened 
which,  without  being  warm  was  yet  dry,  so  that  if  Mon- 
day had  but  been  fine,  what  remained  of  the  damaged 
crop  might  at  least  have  been  carried.  Monday  brought 
a leaden  sky,  (a  pall  of  cloud,)  and  a steady  downpour. 
Charles,  on  entering  the  library,  calmly  surveyed  the 
scene  which  met  his  gaze — (for  the  large  window  im- 
mediately fronted  him) — in  silence.  I felt  mischievous. 
“ Well,  dear  fellow.  And  how  about  the  weather  this 
morning?  ”...  Still  fastening  his  eyes  on  the  dreary  scene, 
he  said,  with  slow,  earnest  emphasis, — “A  very — graciou,^ 
— rainB  A little  nod  followed,  which  of  course  settled 
the  question. 

The  gradual  diminution  of  his  bodily  strength, — (there 
was  no  decay  of  the  mental  faculties), — added  to  his 
liability  to  fits  of  faintness,  latterly  rendered  a journey, 
even  to  pay  an  ordinary  visit,  so  irksome,  as  to  make  it 
in  fact  impracticable.  And  yet  his  attention  to  every 
home  duty  continued  unabated.  His  cheerfulness  too 
never  forsook  him,  and  he  displayed  the  same  intelligent 
interest  as  of  old  in  public  events.  But,  as  I have  said, 
he  lived  entirely  at  home.  The  images  which  the  last 
year  or  two  of  his  life  have  left  on  my  memory  are  all 
inexpressibly  sweet  and  tender, — solemn  even.  When 
the  weather  permitted,  in  the  afternoons  of  the  Summer 
and  the  Autumn,  he  evidently  desired  no  better  recreation 


41 6 Charles  Longuet  Higgins:  [1880 

than  to  occupy  the  garden-seat  at  the  extremity  of  the 
paved  terrace-walk,  on  the  south  (or  garden  side)  of 
the  Abbey.  There,  for  one,  two,  or  more  hours  con- 
secutively he  would  survey  the  quiet  landscape,  and 
meditate  in  silence.  He  delighted,  (but  it  had  been 
the  passion  of  his  boyhood),  to  recognize  the  notes  of 
birds, — to  watch  the  ways  of  insects, — to  contemplate 
the  heavens, — with  a loving  eye  to  review  the  familiar 
environments  of  his  very  happy  home.  His  converse, — 
(for  he  was  not  disinclined  to  interruption,  or  even  to  a 
saunter  to  the  end  of  his  long  walk,) — his  converse  at 
such  seasons  was  always  elevating.  He  had  been  think- 
ing (he  would  say)  of  the  goodness  of  God  in  Creation, 
and  of  the  mysteriousness  of  our  present  being.  That 
which  made  his  chiefest  bliss  at  such  moments  was 
evidently  his  habit  of  secretly  communing  with  himself, 
and  with  the  Father  of  spirits.  When  he  broke  silence, 
it  was  to  remark  on  the  beauty  of  common  sights  and 
common  sounds,  and  sometimes  he  would  speculate, — 
evidently  with  a kind  of  blissful  consciousness  that  very 
slight  had  now  become  the  partition  between  himself  and 
the  unseen  world, — on  the  wonders  which  must  be  await- 
ing us  beyond  the  grave.  Quite  as  often  he  would  revert 
thankfully  to  some  portion  of  his  own  early  life,  and 
recall  with  genuine  filial  piety  traits  of  his  Father  and 
Mother.  . . . Enough  has  been  said  to  explain  how  it 
came  to  pass,  that  the  venerable  figure  which  had  become 
familiar  for  so  many  years  at  Church  Congresses,  was 
missed  after  the  gathering  at  Leicester  in  1880.  At  the 
Portsmouth  Congress  (held  in  1885),  the  Bp.  of  Winches- 
ter (Dr.  Harold  Browne),  in  his  introductory  Address, 
expressed  himself  as  follows : — 

“For  some  time,  both  in  Congresses  and  in  diocesan 
Conferences,  it  was  difficult  to  enlist  the  help  of  laymen. 


The  Good  Layman. 


417 


1880] 

There  was  one  conspicuous  figure  at  the  Cambridge 
Congress  [1861],  dressed  in  somewhat  antiquated  fashion, 
with  his  long  hair  fiowing  on  his  shoulders,  whom 
most  of  us  can  recall,  for  he  has  been  at  almost  every 
Congress  since,  till  his  strength  gave  way  and  he  could 
no  longer  encounter  the  fatigue.  I am  speaking  of 
Charles  Longuet  Higgins.  I had  known  him  since 
1828,  now  fifty-seven  years  since.  No  one  that  ever 
knew  him  could  help  loving  and  honouring  him.  As 
a country  gentleman,  as  a landlord,  as  a friend  to 
the  poor,  as  a Christian  and  as  a Churchman,  he  seemed 
a pattern  of  what  man  should  be.  As  a private 
friend,  and  as  a constant  supporter  of  all  good  works 
in  the  diocese  over  which  I once  presided,  I cannot 
speak  of  him  too  affectionately  or  too  gratefully.  He, 
too,  is  lost  to  us  only  during  the  past  year.  So  it  ever  is 
with  us.  Men  must  come  and  men  must  go,  but  God’s 
work  goes  on  for  ever,  and  we  must  work  for  Him,  whilst 
the  light  is  left  to  us.”  ^ 

This  affectionate  reference  to  a lifelong  friendship, — 
(for  it  dated  back  to  Charles’s  College  days,  when,  as  the 
Bishop’s  senior  by  a few  years,  he  had  addressed  to  him 
words  of  counsel  and  encouragement  on  his  first  coming 
up  to  Cambridge), — has  anticipated  what  I must  else 
have  said  about  my  Brother’s  personal  aspect.  He  was 
a man  noticeable  among  a thousand.  Happy  did  his  wife 
account  herself  in  having  secured  that  the  portrait  with 
which  his  friends  and  neighbours  presented  him  in  1879, 
should  be  from  the  master  hand  of  George  Kich- 
mond,  B.A.  It  represents  her  husband  sitting  in  what 
was  with  him  a favourite  posture  ; and  is  certainly  one  of 
the  happiest  efforts  of  a matchless  Artist  as  well  as  most 
accomplished  gentleman.  Bichmond  took  real  pains 
with  his  subject.  “ I like  that  button,”  he  said,  when  he 
showed  my  sister  the  finished  work,  and  pointed  to  the 

’ ‘ The  Guardian.''  Oct.  7,  1885,  p.  1476. 

E e 


VOL.  II. 


41 8 Charles  Longuet  Higgins:  [1885 

second  button  on  the  coat.  Singular  to  relate,  when 
Charles’s  carpenter  and  gardener  unpacked  the  portrait, 
they  simultaneously  exclaimed, — “ La,  how  like  Master’s 
button ! ” Far  better  deserving  of  notice  is  the  happy 
rendering  of  the  broad  thoughtful  forehead,  the  lips  full 
of  character  and  firmness,  the  silvery  hair  which  curled 
slightly  ere  it  reached  the  shoulders. 

I approach  the  closing  scene  with  strange  reluctance. 
The  first  days  of  the  year  1885  found  Charles  suffering 
from  a severe  cold  (it  was  in  fact  a bronchial  epidemic), 
which  at  last  assumed  an  aggravated  form,  and  made 
him  exceedingly  ill  at  ease.  The  lassitude  which  super- 
vened was  extraordinary.  The  severity  of  the  weather 
also  conspired  to  indispose  him  for  any  of  his  customary 
indoor  occupations.  It  was  on  Tuesday,  the  6th  January 
(the  Feast  of  the  Epiphany)  that  he  went  up  early 
to  bed, — never  again  to  descend  the  familiar  stair.  I 
happened  to  be  arriving  at  the  Abbey  at  the  same 
instant,  and  prolonged  my  stay  till  Friday  the  16th. 
There  was  nothing  in  his  state  to  make  me  apprehensive, 
when  I left  him,  that  it  might  be  the  last  time  I should 
hear  that  kind  voice,  or  look  upon  those  loved  features 
in  life : but  his  prostration  was  excessive,  so  that 
throughout  my  visit  he  kept  his  bed  continuously.  And 
yet,  I never  entered  his  room  but  he  had  something 
pleasant  and  affectionate  to  say  to  me.  Cheerful  as  ever, 
he  startled  me  on  one  of  those  mornings  by  exclaiming, 
as  I entered  the  room, — “ I suppose,  Johnny,  you  will 
inquire  for  S.  Mark  immediately, — won’t  you  ? ” “ What  ? 
In  Paradise,  do  you  mean?”  “Yes,  to  be  sure,”  he 
rejoined,^  raising  his  head  slightly  from  the  pillow  to 

* He  was  referring  to  a book  of  related  by  Canon  Liddon : — “ Not 
mine.  It  reminds  me  of  something  many  weeks  after  his  son’s  death, 


The  Good  Layman. 


419 


1885] 

smile  and  nod.  I saw  how  it  was.  The  set  of  his 
thoughts  was  wholly  towards  the  unseen  World.  But  in 
fact  I never  knew  a man  who  lived  habitually  nearer  to 
God  than  he : who  realized  more  truly  the  unseen,  or 
was  the  subject  of  more  vivid  spiritual  impressions.  In 
the  course  of  the  previous  summer  he  had  said  to  a lady 
who  was  sufficiently  intimate  at  the  Abbey  to  visit  him 
in  his  little  private  sitting-room, — “ I have  been  feeling 
of  late  that  I am  so  at  the  edge  of  the  grave,  that  my 
thoughts  go  on  to  what  is  beyond ; and  sometimes  I 
realize  God’s  presence  until  it  is  too  much  for  me.  I feel 
I can  bear  no  more  while  I am  in  the  flesh.” — “ I often 
think,”  (he  presently  added,)  “ of  that  saying — ‘ God  will 
be  all  in  all  ’ ; and  what  must  be  meant  thereby.” — To 
the  same  friend,  on  another  recent  occasion,  he  had 
avowed  that  he  looked  forward  to  meeting  Pontius  Pilate 
hereafter : adding, — “ If  I could  feel  disappointed  in 
Paradise,  I think  I should,  if  I did  not  see  him  there, — a 
trophy  of  the  most  stupendous  act  of  God’s  grace.”  This 
sentiment  was  the  more  remarkable  on  his  lips,  for  he 
had  derived  from  his  early  training  a somewhat  severe 
cast  of  thought  on  the  subject  involved  in  his  utterance. 
A very  few  years  since,  when  he  was  exceedingly  ill,  he 
spoke  to  me  of  his  own  state  with  a humility  which  I can 
only  describe  as  awful.  When  the  same  lady  was  taking 
leave  of  him  for  the  last  time, — “ I always  feel  now  ” (he 
remarked)  ‘‘  when  I say  ‘ good  bye,’  that  it  may  be  ‘ good 
bye  ’ for  ever.”  . . . 

No  need  to  add  that  throughout  this,  his  last  illness,  he 

Dr.  Pusey  said,  in  the  course  of  con-  to  show  him  some  kindness,  consider- 

versation,  to  the  present  writer — ‘ I ing  all  that  Philip  has  done  in 

cannot  help  hoping  that  if  dear  these  later  years  to  make  St.  Cyril’s 
Philip  is  allowed,  now  or  hereafter,  writings  better  known  to  our  coun- 
to  be  anywhere  near  St.  Cyril  in  trymen.’  ” — {Preface  to  vol.  ii.  of 
another  world,  St.  Cyril  may  be  able  the  English  Translation  of  Cyril.) 

E e 2 


420 


Charles  Longuet  Higgins  : [1885 


was  incessantly  in  prayer.  This  had  been  the  very 
business  of  his  life  for  a long  time  past.  He  would 
sometimes  sit  for  hours  with  ^Tlie  Pious  Christians  daily 
preparation  for  Death  and  Dternity'  open  before  him:  only 
however  in  order  to  assist  his  thoughts.®  No  one 
perhaps  has  ever  met  with  a Manual  of  devotion  entirely 
to  his  mind.  I have  heard  Charles  say  more  than  once, 
— “ The  Lord’s  Prayer  is  enough  for  me  ! ” What  wonder 
if  that  devout  communing  with  God  which  all  his  life 
long  had  been  the  very  stay  of  his  spirit, — became 
his  spirit’s  one  occupation  now  that  he  was  nearing 
the  goal  of  his  earthly  race  ? Meanwhile^  his  bodily 
strength  was  so  visibly  experiencing  decay,  that  his  wife 
henceforth  watched  him  continuously  all  the  day  and  all 
the  night ; for  the  last  few  days  administering  nourish- 
ment every  two  hours, — buoyed  up  by  the  vain  hope 
that  he  might  yet  be  spared  to  her. 

While  watching  him  on  the  morning  of  Friday,  the 
23rd  of  January,  she  noticed  that  suddenly  an  expression 
of  awful  gravity  overspread  his  features.  It  was  about 
half-past  eight  o’clock.  His  eyes  were  closed.  He  seemed 
to  be, — indeed  he  was, — asleep.  There  were  three  short. 


® I observe  that  he  has  barred 
out  several  passages,  and  into  the 
margin  has  written  several  correc- 
tions of  the  text.  Thus,  at  p.  36, 
in  room  of  ‘ with  the  peaceful  com- 
forts of  a quiet  and  good  conscience, 
and  of  perfect  reconciliation  with 
Thee,  my  God,’  he  has  written 
‘ with  a sense  of  perfect  reconcilia- 
tion with  Thee  my  God,  through 
Jesus  Christ  my  Saviour:' — at  p. 
37,  for  ‘ And  however  Thou  dealest 
with  this  corruptible  body,  let  my 
soul,  I beseech  Thee,’ — he  has  sub- 
stituted ‘ Let  both  my  soul  and  my 
body,  I beseech  Thee;’ — at  p.  45, 


for  ‘ whatsoever  defilement  it  may 
have  contracted,’ — ‘ the  exceedingly 
great  and  terrible  defilement  it  has 
contracted — at  p.  52,  for  ‘ to  give 
me  grace  ...  to  fit  myself,’ — pre- 
jpare  me:' — at  p.  59,  instead  of  ‘from 
the  illusions  and  assaults  of  my 
ghostly  enemy,’ — ‘ from  the  illu- 
sions, scaring,  and  assaults  of  my 
ghostly  enemy  ; from  all  harassing 
disorders  of  a troubled  fancy , from 
the  gnawing  misery  of  remorse, 
from  the  horrors  of  despair  : ’ — at 
p.  79,  for  ‘errors,’  he  writes  ‘sins.’ 
Many  of  the  places  of  Scripture,  he 
has  barred  out,  as  all  pp.  56,  57. 


The  Good  Layman. 


421 


1885] 

scarcely  audible,  sighs,  and  it  soon  became  but  too 
evident  that  the  spirit  had  forsaken  its  fleshly  tenement. 
It  was  a death  like  that  foretold  to  “ the  disciple  whom 
Jesus  loved.”  He  had  ^^tarriecV  until  his  Lokd  had 
“ come!'  ^ Already  he  was  in  Paradise,  and  receiving  the 
congratulations  of  the  Saints.  In  the  words  of  a noble 
lady,  (a  friend  and  neighbour  ^),  the  instant  she  heard  of 
his  departure, — “ He  has  already  surely  heard  that  won- 
derful ‘ ¥^ell  clone  ! ’ ” 

It  is  needless  to  linger  further  over  the  story  of  this 
dear  life.  There  is  in  truth  nothing  more  to  be  told. 
Never  have  more  loving  words  been  more  generally 
spoken  concerning  one  recently  departed:  never  has 
more  genuine  sorrow  accompanied  a good  man  to  his 
grave.  From  the  highest  to  the  lowest,  the  language  of 
admiration, — of  reverence, — of  strong  personal  regard, — 
was  still  the  same.  The  people  of  Turvey  mourned  for 
Charles  Longuet  Higgins  as  for  a parent.  Hundreds  of 
them  petitioned  to  be  allowed  to  look  upon  his  loved 
features  for  the  last  time,  as  he  lay  calm  in  death, — 
profoundly  calm,  as  one  who  has  entered  indeed  on  his 
Saint’s  rest : and  no  one  who  asked  that  favour  was 
refused.  His  seemed  a perfectly  rounded  life  ; wanting, 
to  the  last,  in  nothing 

“ which  should  accompany  old  age. 

As  honour,  love,  obedience,  troops  of  friends.”^ 

Could  his  individual  taste  have  been  consulted,  it  is 
known  that  he  would  have  rested  his  head  ‘ in  the  lap  of 
earth,’  like  one  of  the  humblest  of  his  cottagers:  but 
it  was  plainly  right  that  he  should  repose  in  his  own 

^ S.  John  xxi.  22,  23.  ^ The  Marchioness  of  Tavistock. 

^ ‘ Macbeth,'  V.  3. 

E e 3 


VOL.  II. 


422  Charles  Longuet  Higgins.  [1885 

family  burial-place, — “Here,  beside  his  Father  and  his 
Mother,”  as  his  funereal  tablet^  expresses  it.  Not  a 
few  there  be,  now  scattered  over  the  world,  in  the 
colonies  and  dependencies  of  the  Empire,  who,  when 
they  return  to  Turvey  in  after  years,  will  confess,  out  of 
the  overflowing  of  a full  heart, — (for  he  had  been  to  all 
of  them  as  a Father), — that  they  stand  by  the  grave  of 
one  who  had  been  indeed  “a  blessing  to  his  native 
village,  for  78  years.”  ^ 

*■  The  family-vault  is  a consider- 
able structure  in  the  churchyard, — 
surrounded  at  the  summit  by  the 
words,  in  large  stone  letters, — 

“ What  man  is  he  that  liveth  and 
shall  not  see  death  ? ” 

® Such  persons  will  contemplate 
with  admiration  an  exquisite  piece 
of  sculpture  in  the  chancel  of  Tur- 


vey Church,  erected  by  his  widow 
to  the  memory  of  him  “ who,  hav- 
ing restored  this  Church  and  huilt 
this  Chancel,  entered  interest,  lyrd 
Jan.  A.D.  1885.”  white 

marble,  in  a frame  of  alabaster, — 
immediately  surmounts  the  door  of 
the  Vestry  ; and  is  the  work  of  H. 
H.  Armstead,  esq.,  R.A. 


JVSTORVM  SEMITA  QVASI  LVX  SPLENDENS 
PROCEDIT  ET  CRESCIT  VSqVE  AD 
PEREECTAM  DIEM 


Appendix  H. 


423 


(APPENDIX  H). 

Me.  Reginald  Wilbekforce  as  a Biographer. 

(Referred  to  at  p.  2.  Also  in  the  Preface  Dedicatory, — vol.  i.  p.  xxiv). 

Samuel  Wilberforce,  Bishop  of  Oxford,  was  supremely  un- 
fortunate in  that  his  eldest  son  was  the  compiler  of  the  second 
and  third  volumes  of  his  ''Life'  The  sentiments  expressed  by 
the  ^Quarterly  Review’  on  this  subject  [January,  1883  (No. 
309), — pp.  4-6],  will  have  commended  themselves  to  every 
reader  of  taste  and  refinement.  I the  rather  call  attention  to 
the  castigation  inflicted  by  the  ‘ Quarterly’  on  Mr.  Reginald 
Wilberforce,  because  I am  myself  one  of  the  many  whom  he 
has  injured.  My  case  was  stated  in  the  ‘ Times’  of  Feb.  7th, 
1883,  follows; — 

Sir, — Well  aware  that  nothing  which  merely  concerns  myself  in 
the  ‘ Life  of  Bishop  Wilberforce  ’ can  be  of  any  public  interest,  I yet 
think  it  my  duty  publicly  to  protest  against  the  liberty  which 
I there  find  taken  with  my  name.  Three  weeks  ago  the  con- 
cluding volume  reached  me,  and,  at  p.  249,  I read  as  follows  : — 

“An  amusing  story  as  to  the  new  lectionary  used  to  be  told  by 
the  bishop.  As  chairman  of  the  committee  he  received  numerous 
letters  containing  suggestions.  One  of  his  correspondents,  Mr. 
Burgon,  was  very  indignant  at  the  bare  idea  of  a proposed  change, 
and  his  correspondence  was  couched  in  very  strong  language. 
When,  at  last,  all  was  complete,  and  the  new  table  of  lessons 
sanctioned,  with  a proviso  that  the  use  was  not  to  be  compulsory 
for  seven  years,  he  wrote — ‘ I am  thankful  that  I have  yet  seven 
more  years  in  which  I can  continue  my  ministry  in  the  Church, 
at  the  end  of  which  I will,  sooner  than  read  the  mutilated  Bible, 
cheerfully  go  to  prison.’” 

I lost  no  time  in  interrogating  the  biographer  concerning  his 
pretended  quotation  from  a letter  of  mine  ; and  at  the  end  of  ten 
days  received  from  him  the  comfortable  assurance  that  he  “ should 
regret  if  the  publication  of  a good  story  had  in  any  way  annoyed” 
me.  “But”  (adds  Mr.  Wilberforce)  “pray  look  at  the  book,  and 
you  will  see  that  it  is  given  as  a story  only.” 

I have  “looked  at  the  book.”  I find  that  words  which  I should 
be  ashamed  to  have  written  are  there  set  down  within  inverted 


424 


Appendix  H. 


commas,  as  if  quoted  from  a letter  of  mine.  I find  also  that  Mr. 
Wilberforce  has  prefaced  those  words  with  the  assertion  that  I 
wrote  them. 

Mr.  Wilberforce  cannot  have  examined  his  father’s  papers  without 
having  been  made  aware  that  I was  among  the  most  trusted  and 
most  faithful  of  his  father’s  friends.  That  friendship  of  twenty- 
years  and  upwards  he  commemorates  by  going  out  of  his  way  to 
relate  something,  which,  if  it  were  true,  would  be  discreditable 
alike  to  his  father  and  to  me.  But  in  order  effectually  to  make 
me  ridiculous,  Mr.  Wilberforce  professes  to  produce  the  actual 
words  of  a letter  I never  wrote  ; and  by  publishing  those  words  in 
his  father’s  'Life/  provides  that  his  statement  shall  be  believed  to 
my  disadvantage  in  every  quarter  of  the  globe  where  the  English 
language  is  spoken. 

I shall  offer  no  comment  on  all  this.  I submit  my  cause  to  the 
judgment  of  civilized  society. 

Now,  it  happens  to  be  easily  demonstrable  that  Mr.  Reginald 
Wilberforce’s  narrative  is  pure  fiction.  As  a matter  of  fact, 
his  father’s  friend  adopted  the  ‘New  Lectionary’  on  the  first 
day  when  its  use  was  authorized  (viz.  Jan.  ist,  1872); — ex- 
plaining to  his  parishioners,  in  a published  Sermon,  his  reasons 
for  doing  so.  A copy  of  that  Sermon  lies  before  me. 

But  I am  not  concerned  to  establish  this  point.  My  com- 
plaint is  that  Mr.  Reginald  Wilberforce  prints  (with  marks  of 
quotation)  certain  discreditable  words  which  he  roundly  asserts 
that  I wrote ; though  he  knows  perfectly  well  that  I did  not 
write  them,  but  that  the  words  he  pretends  to  quote  are,  every 
one  of  them,  his  own. 

He  is  reminded  that  the  framework  of  society  would  become 
hopelessly  out  of  gear  in  less  than  a week  if  such  a proceeding 
could  be  allowed  to  pass  without  grave  public  remonstrance. 


INDEX. 


Aberford, — ii.  329,  333 
Acland  (Sir  H.  W.), — i.  105,  325, 
366  : (Sarah),  354 
Akers  (Rev.  Aretas), — ii.  91 
Aldrich  (Rev.  W.), — i.  50 
Arnold  (Dr.),— i.  153,  385,  389, 
398-9, 406, 456 ii.  72,  257,  286. 
Asbmolean  club  and  society, — ii.  1 1 5 
Awdry  (Sir  J.  W.),— i.316 
Ralston  (C.  F.), — i.  309  : (H.), — 474 
Bardsley(Archd.),—ii.  28 1, 294,303-4 
Baring  (T.  C.)  esq.,— i.  363 
Bernays  (Rev.  L.), — ii.  161-7 
Bliss  (Dr.), — i,  64-5,  80,  106,  474 
Blomfield  (Bp.), — i.  125,  146,  182, 
234,  244,  258,  260: — ii.  100 
Bloxam  (Dr.),— i.  23,  25,  35,  47,58, 
65,  96,  104 

Borrer  (Rev.  Treasurer), — ii.  4,  310 
Browne  (Bp.Harold), — ii.  368,41 6-7 
— (Rev.  H.), — i.  307 
Buckle  family  (members  of), — i. 
381-2,  407 

Bulley  (Pres.), — i.  7,  65,  183 
Burgon  family  (members  of), — i. 

137.  287,  357  ii.  392 
Butler  (Bp.), — i.  3,  263  : — ii.  186-8- 
9,  200-1,  323-5 

Cairns  (Lord  Cbanc.), — i. 446, 454-5 
Carey  (Bp.), — ii.  297-8 
Carnarvon  (Earl  of), — ii.  174-5, 

225,  229,  236 
Carson  (Rev.  J.), — ii.  248 
Cawley  Priory, — i.  307 
Chandler  (Dr.  R.), — i.  18,  48,  51 
Chandler  (Prof.), — ii.  203,  211,  213, 
214,  219-20,  220-4 
Chase  (Principal), — i.  436,  439,  449, 
45L  504 '-—ii-  310.  313 
Chichester, — i.  306-10;  Deanery, 

376-7 

Church  (Dean), — i.  23,61,  388,  420, 
437  ii-  323-5 

‘ Church  of  the  Fathers' — i.  205 
‘ Churching  of  Women,’ — ii.  278-9 


Clarke  (Dr.  E.  D.), — i.  120-1,  124  : 

— ii-  133 

Clerke  (Archd.), — ii.  24, 31,  217,  252 
Clinton  (Lady  Louisa), — i.  126 
Clough  (A,  H.), — i.  432 
Clutterbuck  (Rev.  J.  C.), — ii.  115, 
249,  250 

Clyde  (Lord), — ii.  273 
Coleridge  (S.  T.), — i.  309  : — ii.  196- 
1,  306 

Collins  (W.)  R.  A.,— ii.  346 
Colson  (Canon), — i.  460-T 
Constitution  (tripartite), — i.  57,  58 
Cotton  (Provost), — i.  105  : — ii.  320 

— family  (members  of), — ii.  71-3, 80 
Cowper  (W.)  the  poet, — i.  279  : — ii. 

345-54 

Coxe  (Bp.  A.  C.), — i.  290,  487-8 

— family  (members  of), — ii.  123- 
4,  126-7,  147-8 

Cranbrook  (Viscount), — i.  413 
Cranmer  (Abp.), — i.  470  : — ii.  403-4 
Cureton  (Canon), — i.  71  : — ii.  136-7 
Darby  (Dean), — ii.  239,  249,  263, 
276,  279,  303 

Daubeny  (Dr.), — i.  54-5, 60 : — ii.  1 1 5 
Davison  (Rev.  J.), — i.  384,  387  : — 
ii.  3i3>  321 

Denison(  Archd.), — i. 408-10: — ii.314 
Doane  (Bp.), — i.  154,  236-9 
Dress  in  1800, — i.  9,  10: — in  1813, 
— i.  385  : — in  1808-9, — i.  386 
Earle  (Prof.  J.), — ii.  175-6, 183,  26 
Eden  family,  (members  of), — ii. 

305-6-7^  .S30-I 

‘ Fssays  and  Reviews' — ii.  145 
Eveleigh  (Provost), — i.  50,  383,  386 
Fairstead, — i.  180-4,  195,  236 
Farrar  (Canon)  of  Durham, — i.  84, 

425,467-72  ii-  81,  115-6,  134, 
262-3,  271-2 
Finmere, — ii.  61 

Fraser  (Bp.),— i.  388,  430  ii.  303 
Froude(Rev.  R.  H.), — i.  167, 170-2- 
4-6-7,  241,  263,  388,  403 ii.  275 


426 


Index. 


Frowd  (Dr.), — ii.  138,  298 
Fursdon  (G.  S.)  esq., — ii.  243,  250-4 
Gaisford  (Dean), — i.  104,  112,  389 
Gamon  (John)  esq., — ii.  280,  290-2 
Gandell  (Prof.), — Preface 
Gillam  (Rev.  T.  H.), — ii.  267,  286 
Gladstone  (Rt.  Hon.  W.  E.), — i.  306, 
419  : — ii.  iio-i,  318 
Glynde, — i.  146,  167,  273,  286 
Golightly  (Rev.  C.  P.), — i.  405, 43S  : 
— ii.  79-80,  85,  87. — Preface 
Goulburn  (Dean), — Preface 
Grant  (Archd.), — i.  391,  460-1,  463 
Gray  of  Chester  (Canon), — i.  84  : — 
ii.  257,  270-1,  282,  286-7,  295-9 
Greenhill  (Dr.), — ii.  100,  iio-ii, 

314 

Gres  well  family  (members  of), — ii. 

94-5,  1 1 1-2-3,  1 20-1  i.  412 
Griffith  (‘  Mo’), — i.  65,  78,  79  : — ii. 
296,  297-8 

Guillemard  (Rev.  H.  P.), — i.  61, 420 
Haddan  (Rev.  A.  W.), — ii.  189,  332 
Hadleigh, — i.  144,  174-6-8-83 
Hampden  (Dr.), — i.  59,  iii,  230, 
388,  456  ii.  13-19 
Harrison  (Ven.  Benj.), — i.  177,  205- 
6,  239,  257,  268,  274,  276,  306 
Hawker  of  Morwenstow, — ii.  261, 

273 

Hawkins  family  (members  of), — i. 
375-6-7-9>  380-1,  421,  441-2-5, 
457»  462-3 

Heber  (Reginald), — i.  385 
— (Richard), — i.  5,  15,  79,  104 
Hensley  (Rev.  A.), — ii.  91 
Hessey  (Archd.), — ii.  161-70-3,  232 
Hext  (Rev.  G.), — ii.  140-1 
Higgins  family  (members  of), — ii. 

344-5-56-7,  373-80-5-6 
Hobart  (Bp.),— i.  133,  154,  233 
Hobhouse  (Bp.  Edmund), — i.  78, 
103,  487  : — ii.  298 

Holywell  cemetery, — i.  442,  477  : — 
ii.  328  : Preface 

* Home  Thoughts  abroad^ — i.  168, 
197,  205,  215 


Hook  (Dean), — i.  235  : — ii.  65 
Hopwood  (Canon), — ii.  241,  301 
Horne  (Bp.), — i.  9,  16,  44,  48,  77 
Horsham, — i.  130-2,  144 
Houghton  Conquest, — i.  287-94  : — 
ii.  224 

Howley  (Abp.), — i.  137-9,  ^44?  ^89 
-92,  234,  244-5,  257-8,  275-6:— 
ii.  14,  100,  107 

Howson  (Dean), — ii.  240,  273-4, 
285,  293,  299,  302 
Hughes  (Miss), — i.  326-7 
Hussey  (Prof.  Robert), — Preface 
H3nnns, — ii.  284,  396-401 
Ilsley  (West),— ii.  35 
Inge  (Rev.  F.  G.),— ii.  332-4 
‘ Intermediate  state,’ — ii.  284-5,  340 
Ireland  (Dean), — i.  424-5 
Jackson  (Dean  Cyril), — i.  297  : — ii. 
298 

Jacobson  (Bp.), — i.  60,81-2-4,  410, 
452  : — ii.  136-7,  262-8-9,  281-2- 
8-9 

— family  (members  of), — ii.  266-7, 
278,  292,  300 

‘Jesus  Lane  school,— ii.  369 
Jeune  (Bp.), — ii.  229,  237,  244,  246 
Jowett  (Rev.  B.), — ii.  145 
Kay  (Dr.  W.),— i.  290,  323,  332, 
Preface 

Keble(Rev.  John), — i.  135,  147, 163 
-4,  172-4,  321,  332,  383,  387, 
399,  400-1 

Kidd  (Dr.), — ii.  115,  268 
King  (Bp.  Edw.),— i.  339,  372,  Pref 
Knox  (Alex.), — ii.  248-9 
Landon  family, — i.  49  : — ii.  73,  330 
La  Touche  family, — ii.  246-8,  251 
Liberty  of  the  Press, — i.  56-7 
‘ Library  of  the  Fathers,' — i.  321-4 
‘ Literary  Churchman^ — i.  364-5 
Livingstone  (David), — ii.  411 

— (Rev.  R.  G.),— i.  378,  379,  385, 
405,  44L  444»  461-2 

Longley  (Abp.), — ii.  14,  242-7 
‘LyraApostolica,’ — i.  167-8,171, 213 
Manning  (Dr.), — i.  240,  254-6 


Index. 


427 


Mansel  family  (members  of),— ii. 
150-2-3 

Marriott  family  (members  of),— i. 

297.  297-302,  329-30,  348,  367 
Maurice  (Rev.  F.  D.), — ii.  192-3, 
272-3 

Mill  (Dr.  W.  H.), — i.  230,  259 
Miller  (Rev.  John), — i.  9,  116,  186, 
191-3,  233-53-67:— ii-  82-3,95-6 
Milman  (Dean), — i.  385 
Miracles, — ii.  225-6 
Moberly  (Bp.), — ii.  277 
Moore  (Rev.  Jos.), — ii.  312-3,  320 
Moorsom  family, — ii.  153-4 
Mordaunt  family, — ii.  150,388-91-3 
Mozley  (Dr.  J.  B.), — i.  47-8, 65,  66, 
67,  108,  329,  355:— ii-  179,  193 
Muckleston  (Rev.  R.), — ii.  80-1, 

83-4,  90,  117-8 

Neate  (Charles), — i.  410,  427,  431, 
436,  443  ii- 221. 

Newman  (Cardinal), — i.  58,  72, 147, 
164,  165-77,  184,  188,  194-228, 
231-2,  241,  261-8,  273-4,  311-20, 
328,  335,  345,  348-9,  387-8,  391- 
4-8-9 , 403-4-5-9- 15,417-29,432, 
465  ii.  46,  50,  75,  86,  309,  347 
Ogilvie  (Canon), — i.  29,  44,  55,  60, 
78,  81-2,  87,  91-3,95-100,  102-6 
Oriel  College  in  1813,— i.  383-4: 
in  1829, — i.410. — Fellows  in  1827, 
— i.  398-9. — Common  Room, — i. 
398-9.— Notices,— i.  177, 374,  383 
Otter  (Bp.), — i.  306 
Palmer  (Rev.  William)  of  Wore. 
Coll., — i.  148,  150-8,  160-2.  174- 
8,  198,  277  ; — ii.  99,  ioo-io 
— (Archd.), — Preface 
Parnell  (Paul), — ii.  166 
Penn  (Granville), — i.  i,  16,  38,  47 
Philippians  ii.  26, — i.  29 
‘ Port  meadow,’ — ii.  117- 
Powles  (Preb.  R.  Cowley), — ii.  272, 

315 

Poynton  (Rev.  F.  J.), — i.  380 
Precursors  of  ‘ the  Movement,’ — i. 

153-5 


Pusey  (Dr.), — i.  134,  207,  209,  213, 
219,  242,  247-52,  274,  321-3,  335, 
388, 402, 404,  439, 441 :— ii.  39, 49 
Pusey  (P.  E.), — ii.  418,  9.  Preface 
Reay  (Prof.  S.),— i.  41 
‘Rebecca,’ — i.  397 
Richards  (Rev.  W.  U.), — i.  368 
Richmond  (G.)  R.A., — i.  306: — ii. 

417-8 

Riddell  (Rev.  James), — Preface 
Rigaud  (Rev.  J.), — i.  60-3,  65,  84: 
— ii.  129 

‘Ritualism,’ — ii.  51-9,  282-3 
Rome,— i.  133,  168-71  : — ii.  58-9 
Rooms  of  eminent  men, — i.  387 
Rose  (Hugh  James), — i.  59,  307, 

315,  317,  319 

— (Mrs.), — i.  129,  179-80,  269-73, 

307 

— (Archd.  Henry  John), — i.  119, 
189,  284-95:— ii.  224,  392 

— (Rev.  W.  F.), — i.  271-2,  294 
Routh  family  (members  of), — i.  4, 

16,  17,  21,  45,  48,  60,  107,  1 18, 
294,  475 

— (President), — i.  395 

— (Mrs.  Routh), — i.  51,  67,  72,  75 

— (Rev.  P.), — i.  4,  13,  18, 19-22,  45 
Sanderson  (Bp.), — ii.  268-9,  285-9, 

303 

— (Preb.),— i.  341-4 

Scott  (Rev.  T.), — ii.  344-6-7,  412 

— (Sir  G.  G.), — i.  289,  396  : — ii.  389 
Selwyn  (Bp.), — i.  142-3,  310-12, 

319,  324,  349 

Sheffield  (Earl  of), — i.  123 
Shirley  (Canon  Walter  W.),— Pre- 
face 

Simeon  (Rev.  C.), — i.  141 : — ii.  364- 
5>  367,  370,  412 

Skeffington  (Hon.  H.  R.), — ii.  91 
Skene  (Miss), — i.  325 
Smith  (Dr.  Pye), — ii.  241 

— (Prof.  G.),— ii.  193-9 

‘ Society  of  the  Holy  Cross,’ — ii,  55 
Southey  (Robert), — ii.  323-4 
Stage  coaches, — i.  6 


428 


Index. 


Stark  (Mrs.), — i.  133 

Sterling  (Mrs.),— ii.  241,  273 

Tavistock  (Marchioness  of), — ii.  42 1 

Tawell,— i.  51-2 

Taylor  (Bp.), — ii.  328 

Tea,  ‘ teapot,’ — i.  387 

Thomas  (Rev.  G.  F.), — ii.  77»  9° 

Thorold  (Bp.), — i.  439 

Throckmorton  family,  — ii.  347~9. 

351 

Thurlow  family  (members  of), — i. 

16,  23,  32,  33,  38,  473 
Todd  (Dr.)  R.  B.,— i.  243 
Trench  (Abp.  R.  C.), — i.  176 
Turner  (Dawson)  esq., — ii.  259-60 
— (Rev.  E.  T.),— ii.  176-7,  234 
‘ Universal  Purveyor,’ — i.  351 
‘ U ni versifies  Commi  ssion  ’ (1854-7), 

— i.  425-8  (1876),— i.  448-53 

Utterton  (Bp.), — ii.  54 
Wadley  House, — ii.  312-3 
Ward  (Rev.  G.  S.), — ii.  255-7,  296 
Watson  (Joshua), — i.  146, 175,  178, 


181-3,  234-6,  244,  254,  256,  258, 
260,  267,  275,  420 
Weston  Underwood, — ii.  345,  353-4, 
4” 

Weston  Hall, — ii.  347 
Whateley  (Abp.),— i.  384-5,  388, 

414.  456 

Wheattield  (Rev.  F.  C.), — i.  180 
Wilberforce  family  (members  of), — 

i.  305,  388,  390-B  4°B  405.  408, 
421  ii.  74,  211,  217,  423-4 
Woodford  (Bp.), — ii.  32,  44-5 
Woollcombe  (Rev.  E.  C.), — i.  332, 
361,  444.  Preface 
Worcester  College,  — ii.  88-92: 
(Chapel)  ii.  86  : (Gardens)  ii.  98 
Wordsworth  (Bp.), — i.  91,  m, 
450: — ii.  127,  284 
— (Miss),— ii.  122,135-6,138-9, 143 
Wynter(President), — i.383: — ii.159 
Wytham, — ii.  129,  142,  147 
‘ Yarmouth  machine,’ — i.  6 
1 Yonge  (Miss), — ii.  134,  136 


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